The Last Awakening
by SpartAl412
Summary: In the Lands of the Dead, where doom and riches can be found in abundance. An army of Chaos raids the barren lands of Nehekhara seeking to plunder the wealth of the past. But when they disturb the rest of one of the ancient rulers of that place, they will learn that death is just the beginning.
1. Blood and Gold

Within the eternal blue sky did Ptra, The Great Father gaze down upon the world. On the dusty plains north of the Blessed Lands, hordes of savage greenskinned beasts flooded the plain like the waters of The Great Vitae. Standing against the sea of barbarity was a great army of gold and iron, thousands of swarthy skinned men dressed in garments of cream or white stood in serried ranks. Each man tightly clenched the grip of his weapon, whether it be sword, spear, axe or bow, each man whispered prayers to their gods for deliverance from this mighty foe.

Then the sounding of the horns came and their hearts were lifted, the warriors of the Blessed Land made way for the Maryannu and their chariots. Their eyes fell upon the one who rode at the head of the noble host, the lead chariot itself was designed to resemble the winged bull, the symbol of Geheb, God of Strength. The one who rode upon the chariot was clad in armor of gold and iron the armor itself was decorated with lapis lazuli and jade from lands of the Dragon Emperors, upon the chariot rode their General, Tahirah of Ka-Sabar. Her name was known to many for she had been the heroine of the War of the Thousand Nights which was fought against the Serpent Lords of the south. She was known as the Bane of Goblin Tribes of the west, and Slayer of the bearded Infernal Kings and their brutish slaves who marched against Numas, and so many more.

Her jet black hair had been braided, each strand was decorated in rings of gold, and her face was concealed by a serenely beautiful mask of polished ivory, upon her brow was a headdress of gold and azure which emulated the rising sun, its design was common amongst the warrior kings and queens across the Blessed Land. In her left hand she held a bow, blessed by the goddess Asaph and crafted in the eastern city of Lahmia, in her right hand she raised an elegant sword of silver which captured and reflected the glory of Ptra, its point directed towards the enemy. The sword's design was unknown to soldiers of the Blessed Land, it was a strange and foreign thing, but if the tales of its power were, then it was as deadly as it was beautiful.

'Advance' was all she said, her voice carried with it an air of authority almost as if great Settra himself had commanded them, her words were carried by the winds and into the ears of each soldier as if she spoke next to them. As one the warriors of the Blessed Land marched, as one did shields locks and bows strung, they were ready, they were confident, they knew that the gods were with them, and as long as the gods remained with the people of the Blessed Land, they knew that Nehekhara would never fall…

* * *

_North West of Khemri…_

'It's too damn dark in here' muttered Hrolf Bull-cleaver as he held up a torch

The sputtering flame banished the darkness of the corridor ahead of him, he was wary for any dangers ahead, for what they faced in this cursed land had no need of light. Tightly gripping his sword, he carried onwards, glancing back towards his companions he saw Orgnar, Erik, Sven and that damned sorcerer from Marienburg, behind the sorcerer were a dozen more men.

Clad in robes of blue and gold, Viktor Blause did not seem much compared to other sorcerers he had seen, the Marienburger was a slightly tall, skinny looking southerner in his middling years with a balding plate of black hair and he even had no facial hair whatsoever. And yet he had proven himself worthy of Tchar by challenging their shaman, Vilod in a duel which ended in a humiliating defeat for the shaman.

'Hey sorcerer!' shouted Hrolf who was unafraid of witches and their ilk, for he had paid great obeisance to Kharneth, 'why don't you cast a spell or something to light the way ahead'

The old man looked to him and replied in their tongue, his tone was annoyingly in a fatherly way as if Hrolf were a child 'I need to conserve my power dear boy, I can feel strong magic at work here'.

With snort Hrolf carried on thinking how usual it was that a sorcerer wastes the chance to actually do something useful. Looking ahead, he noted the strange symbols and paintings on the walls; their advanced was often slowed as the old sorcerer kept calling for the group to stop so he could read them.

For two weeks now, Hrolf had been in the realms of Nehekhara. He as well as several hundreds of warriors from across Norsca and even warriors from the tribes further north such as the Kurgan or the Hung, all had come heeding the call of Valerius the Black King. The Black King was a mighty Chaos Lord who as the stories went, hailed from the southern kingdom of the horse lords of Bretonnia, he had come to the north with eyes opened of the foolishness of the weakling gods of the south. The skalds told many a mighty tale of the Black King's deeds and already he had carved a mighty nation within the Wastes.

The Black King apparently desired a great deal of war machines from the Dwarfs of Zharr Nagrund. The skill and artifice of the followers of Hashut were highly sought after by many Chaos Lords, but always the Dwarfs would demand payment in either gold, flesh, or both. And so seeking great wealth did the Black King decree of a campaign to Nehekhara, what drew so many warriors was the promise of gold. Even in the north, tales of the Land of the Dead's wealth was highly regarded, some stories even suggested that its wealth rivaled that of the Lizard-beasts of Lustria.

The battles they fought here in the dessert lands were mostly against hostile wildlife, desert tribes of green skins and occasionally bands of treasure hunters from Araby or fair-skinned southerners. There were also multiple skirmishes against the skeletal armies, but such foes were boring to Hrolf. Kharneth may demand skulls for his throne, but it was not complete if there was no blood with it.

'Stop!' he heard the voice of the old man shout,

Bristling with annoyance, he dearly would have loved to tear the old man's throat out, but it was their Jarl's decree that no harm would come to sorcerer, for he had been sent directly by the Black King.

'What!? What is it now sorcerer!?' shouted Hrolf, looking back he saw witchlight glowing underneath the old man's eye lids, it disappeared and the old man opened his eyes again.

'There are dangerous traps three steps ahead' he said 'if you all want to see the sun again I suggest you heed my council'. The other men looked to Hrolf who rolled his eyes and grunted in annoyance.

'Fine then' said the Norscan 'we will play along for now'

'Good, now take two steps forwards' said the old man and the Norscans obeyed, as one the party took two steps forward, 'now go to our left and make sure your backs are to the walls'. The men obeyed once more, Hrolf moved to the left and rested his back to the cold, dusty wall. 'Excellent, now take one big step forward…'

* * *

Sitting upon a daemonic steed which resembled a red furred horse with eyes that burned with hellfire, the Black King watched with satisfaction as many more of his warriors returned. His armor was the color of obsidian, the plates itself were fashioned to resemble the faces of daemons, its trim was of burnished gold. The Black King watched with satisfaction as a war band dumped several bags of gold into one of the wooden chests which would later be loaded upon one of their ships.

A storm was coming, the Black King knew, one that had not been felt for centuries, one that would engulf the world in ruin. He held no illusions that he would not be the Herald of the Dark Gods, nor would he be the leader of the greatest army that would march from the north, rather he was content to serve and play his role in furthering the designs of the True Gods. But to do so he needed to be ready, he needed the aid of the Dawi Zharr and their war machines if they were to succeed in the campaign against the southerners.

Southerners… and to think he was once of them. Fools who thought themselves civilized and righteous, blind to their corruption and the darkness that awaited. A strange feeling came over the Black King, it was something he had not felt in more than a century, and he remembered its name. Regret, a small part of him, the part which was the man he had once been felt regret, shame and sadness for what he had done to get here and what he planned to do. Looking down upon his left hand, his fiery eyes gazed down upon a golden ring which was placed upon his finger next to the little one.

What would you think of me now? He thought with a hint of sadness, to know of all that I have done all the blood I had spilled for you. Shaking his head of the brief melancholy, he chastised himself for having a moment of weakness, he gazed about and was glad that none of his underlings noted. When the storm came, he would have to banish his weaknesses or die; such was the beautiful simplicity of Chaos.

Looking to his right, he felt the presence of one of his underlings, a fat Imperial named Randolph Kauffman who had joined his campaign. Riding upon a horse more suited for carrying baggage it saddle even had a canvas supported by four wooden poles which shaded the man from the sun. The Imperial was a high-ranking member of a Slaaneshi cult which exalted the Dark Prince in his aspect of obscene wealth, the cultist had offered his services as an "accountant" in making sure that the quota of gold they needed to pay the Dawi Zharr was fulfilled. The Black King knew he would have to keep an eye on this snake, as much as he would have to with the lesser warlords and champions that followed him.

'Excellent progress I must say my lord' said the Imperial with a bow

His demeanor was sickeningly one of an absolute sycophant 'if my estimates are correct I believe that by the end of today we already would have filled half of the price the Dwarfs have given us. The Black King nodded and waved his hand to dismiss, the Imperial bowed and went off, and likely he would be dallying with his harem of eunuchs again.

Everything so far seemed to have gone a bit too well the Black King thought. In his experience this was usually one of the ways Tzeentch liked to work, to make everything seem like smooth sailing and then a sudden storm would hit when you least expect it. He resolved to make sure that the sentries would remain alert and his army would not tear itself apart in their avarice. Already he had heard reports of war bands attacking each other for their hauls of gold; each group had been told that the more gold they bring in, the bigger their share at end will be. Such behavior was hardly a useful thing even with an army of their size when you were in the home of an enemy that may simply be biding its time.

* * *

Sighing with relief, Hrolf was glad to get passed that corridor. While he feared no enemy he could cleave with his sword, it was ignoble to die from something like spikes bursting out of the walls as he had seen what happened to another man named Ulfir a few days earlier, advancing forwards, Hrolf's eyes widened at the sight which would greet them.

They arrived in a large hall filled with gilded skulls which were embedded into the walls, skulls of orcs, goblins, lizard-beasts both the regular kind and those ones with single cyclopean eyes. There were also skulls with grey and desiccated beards, these skulls he noted had tusks and he realized they were those of Dawi Zharr.

In the murals he saw scenes of great battles against countless things, but there was one constant he noted, each one depicted what he believed was a woman and a man who commanded the victorious armies. One mural that caught his eye showed the woman raising a strange white sword in salute to a different man wearing a style of armor he had never seen. The other man raised a straight bladed sword and there were many small green bodies surrounding them; the man carried a banner with a great golden serpent upon it. He then realized that the serpent was a dragon, or at least what the men of distant Cathay believed was a dragon.

As the party advanced further they began to spread out, but each man had made sure that the other was within their sight. They saw several still statues of creatures with animal skulls for heads which held great curved blades with axe like pommels. Upon their backs were massive bows with quivers which contained javelins. Hrolf gripped his sword tightly and his palms began to itch as he looked upon the statues, these things looked dangerous he thought, as mighty as the Chosen.

'Hey I found something!' shouted Orgnar, as one the men began to rush to him

Each one hoping to find gold and wealth. When they reached the tall red-bearded, man their eyes fell upon the two sarcophaguses that lay before them. Gold! Hrolf thought, one of the sarcophagi was made entirely of gold. He saw the familiar depiction of the woman who had been on the murals. The other one though was already opened with nothing inside; Hrolf wondered if someone had beaten them to whatever treasure lay within.

'Is that her?' said Sven as he stared down the sarcophagus with awe, Hrolf had to admit that he too could not help but be impressed by the intricate details upon the sarcophagus 'The one on the murals?'?

'Indeed it is' came the voice of the sorcerer, the old man was looking upon a tablet behind the first sarcophagus where several of the strange runes which passed for writing among the ancients were etched in gold.

'Here lies Queen Tahirah, born of Ka-Sabar, blessed of Geheb the Mighty, wife of Priest-King Ahnutep II of Numas. She whose arrows had pierced the hearts ten thousand foes, she who sailed east into the realm of the Dragon Emperors and parted the heads of the mighty Khans which threatened The Road of Silk and thus securing an alliance with the Celestial Empire. She who was slain in the 43rd year of Sahkmet the Jealous while battling against the great Bull-Daemon of the Infernal Kings.' Hrolf noted a tablet as well behind the emptied sarcophagus; likely it belonged to this Ahnutep fellow and would speak of his achievements.

'Sounds like quite a woman' said Erik with a leer 'I would have liked to stick my sword in her sheath'.

Several of the men laughed and they began studying the sarcophagus, one of the men tried to get it open but found it would not budge. Looking around to see if there was a switch or a lever somewhere, Hrolf looked up to see a mural in the ceiling, it showed the woman bearing a spear which struck against the head of a daemonic winged creature that resembled a bull. It was followed by an image of the man who was often with the woman, he was kneeling over her while around them were many bodies.

Looking back, to the men he saw the sorcerer kneeling down a short distance away from the sarcophaguses. Azure light began to dance around him, he then heard a scraping of metal and stone and he looked back to the men. They heaved together with their muscles bulging and veins appearing, and as one they lifted the lid of the sarcophagus off. With a heavy thump the lid landed upon the dusty floor and many of the men began coughing.

'NNOOO!' shouted the sorcerer with alarm 'What have you fools done!? I did not remove the seals yet!' The old man then began looking around the hall, he began to grow frantic and he shouted 'we need to get out of here now!' at the old man's words the warriors drew their weapons and began scanning the area for any enemies, a long tense moment of silence passed and one of the men, Rodolf began to laugh.

'Is that it? Just silence and dust? You worry too much Marienburger' said Rodolf mockingly.

The sorcerer was not convinced and he began to warily eye the statues, Hrolf began to gaze upon them as well and he began to have a bad feeling in his gut.

'Hey look at this on her!' shouted Sven, he lifted up a curved sword of gold which glinted with the torchlight, Hrolf swore that he could see a strange unnatural glow upon its edges.

'Put that down you fools!' wailed the Sorcerer 'the statues! Great Changer the Ushabti!'

'You mean those things!?' Rodolf said again, he walked up to the nearest statue which bore the head of a jackal 'it's just a scary statue it wont-' was the last thing Hrolf said as the great blade descended upon him and perfectly split him in half from head to groin.

Blood spattered from both ends of Rodolf and the statues began moving. The sorcerer cast a bolt of blue fire which struck one of the statues, causing it to shatter, it weapons and armor disintegrated. A blade swung towards him and it crashed against an orb of azure light. The sorcerer then began running off towards the corridors which led them into the room.

'Come back you coward!' shouted Hrolf with rage he heard a scream of pain as Sven was cut in half by one of the statues, Erik and Orgnar attempted to attack one of the statues which parried a strike from Erik's axe while Orgnar struck it with his mace. The mace broke against some of the statues ribs but it did not stop the statue from decapitating Orgnar.

All around Hrolf his men were being slaughtered, he barely dodged a strike from one and launched a counter attack which struck the skeletal thing. It was like fighting a foe clad in thick armor, knowing that his chances of survival were extremely slim, he knew that while Kharneth cared little from where the blood flowed, Hrolf had always tried to make sure it was others that bled and not he, Hrolf then decided to make a run for it and followed after the sorcerer. He could still see the azure light of the Marienburger in view, he was only able to take four steps forwards before he felt a sharp pain and something cold stab through his belly.

Looking down he saw the glint of a bloody silver blade poking through him, the blade retracted and he began to lose control of his lower body. Falling to his knees with his entrails spilling out, he caught a glimpse of a beautiful ivory mask, wrapped in moldering cloth and withered flesh he saw the slim frame of the one who had stabbed him, it was her he realized, the one the sorcerer called Tahirah. He wanted to shout, to spit his defiance but he could not, there was magic in that blade, one that sapped him of his strength, all he could do was watch as the blade descended upon him.

* * *

Looking down upon the corpse of the last savage which dared to defile her tomb, the Tomb Queen flicked the blood away from her sword and she called her Ushabti to attention. As one the Ushabti straightened and saluted her, she commanded them to awaken her Herald Asim, but the Herald had already awoken, he stepped forward and bowed to her, his Khopesh was stained in blood. He spoke in a dry whispering tone.

'One had escaped my Queen' said Asim as he remained bowing 'I shall take full responsibility of its escape and I request to hunt it down as penance'

'There is nothing to apologize for old friend' replied Tahirah

A flicker of memory passed through her skull, she remembered Asim as a tall, strong man with black hair and brown eyes, she remembered he was quite handsome, but due to their positions it was highly inappropriate for them to be more than a Queen and her bodyguard.

'Have Kemsyt awakened and my chariot prepared' she said as she went to the body of the savage that had taken her Khopesh, picking up the weapon she raised the weapon and pointed it to the door way 'We shall hunt this thief and if he travels with others then their blood shall stain the sands.'

* * *

Using his magic to bear himself to safety, Viktor could feel a draft and he knew he was getting close to the exit. Eventually after making his way through the dizzying maze of the tomb he saw a light, and he could feel the heat of the desert. Emerging from the entrance of the pyramid, Viktor was blinded by the sun's light, he looked to the side to find the horses and to his relief they were still there and he went towards his own. Moving towards the horses that were very skittish and nervous, he hissed a simple spell which incinerated the ropes binding his horse to the wooden peg set into the sands.

He looked to the other horses and he pointed a finger at them, words of power escaped his lips and the ropes which bound them were incinerated as well, the old man then kicked his horse into a gallop and began riding back towards the main camp of the Black King's war band.

His ride thankfully was swift and without incident, he eventually sighted the war camp which was situated upon the River Mortis, its waters which were tainted with warpstone was pleasing to the Northmen who had spent most of their lives being saturated by it. Of course for men such as Viktor or some of the other cultists who had joined the campaign, they would need to pray or perform rituals so that their chosen deity would not allow them to prematurely gain any "gifts".

Nearing the camp he was halted by a pair of Norscan horsemen who ordered the sorcerer to halt. Brandishing his amulet of Tzeentch and shouting in the Dark Tongue, the horses bucked and threw off their riders, none were seriously hurt except for their pride as men nearby pointed and laughed. Riding to the Black King's court he passed by the fur or leather hide tents of the Northmen as they made ready for further sorties.

He noted an air of tension in the camp, perhaps the Tomb Kings had already been alerted to their presence? He was not sure which was more terrifying, reporting to the Black King of the stupidity of the ones he traveled with and thus he as well or facing down an army that had overcome death itself.

* * *

The Black King settled upon his mobile throne of ivory mammoth bones and leather made from human-hide. He listened to the reports from the scouts who had returned, each one claiming of no great enemy army massing. It can't be this easy he thought, perhaps they were lying in wait under the sands, or perhaps the crypts they already looted had hidden compartments which contained more skeletal warriors. As he heard the last report he saw a grey Estalian horse ride towards his tent, he saw the sorcerer Viktor Blaus dismount from the beast and he made his way to the Black King.

Blaus's path was blocked by two of the Black King's warriors, he called to let the sorcerer pass and the old man bowed towards him

'My lord' said the sorcerer 'I have news of a scouting party, possibly a vanguard heading towards us from the east, we must send riders at once'

Finally! Thought the Black King, the Tomb Kings probably thought they could lure him into a false sense of safety and then they spring a trap, well he knew better than that. 'Your words have pleased me sorcerer, what of those who traveled with you?'

'Dead, my lord' replied the sorcerer who looked surprised and relieved about something 'slain by the undead scouts, they are led by a mighty champion'.

A champion? Thought the Black King, or an assassin who would wait till the dead of the night to strike him. 'Call forth Jordis the Flesh Flayer; have her deal with these scouts!' commanded the Black King. Among the Black King's followers was a lady champion of Slaanesh, as the story went her tribe was attacked by the Druchii of Naggaroth, many of the tribes women and children were taken and if the stories were to be believed, Jordis rose as champion among the gladiator slaves of the Dark Elves and she managed to escape by seducing and murdering one of the jailers and escaping into the Wastes north of the Land of Chill.

While he himself had doubted the story, he has seen her in action against the weakling southerners as well as other warriors in the Chaos wastes and he had to admit her speed would likely match those of the fey folk. Jordis and her war band had joined his campaign for the same reason as most of the others, for gold. He decided to pay a visit to some of his sorcerers, perhaps now would be the time to gather his army for war.

* * *

Bathed in the ruddy glow of torch-light, Tahirah stood still with her arms outstretched; a trio of skeletal slaves had removed the ceremonial garb upon her and replaced it with her armor. First were a series of eight pieces of armor which resembled the bracers she would wear upon her forearms, the second pair were clasped between her shoulders and elbows, the third going around her shins and the last being clasped around her desiccated thighs. Then they had placed her breastplate which covered much of her shoulder and the upper torso, and finally her gorget, her mask and headdress all of which protected her neck, the top of her head with gilded plates and her face was covered in shining ivory.

She was then handed her bow and quiver of arrows, each of the item were blessed by the goddess Asaph, finally came her most prized belonging, her silver sword. She remembered how the sword came into her possession.

* * *

_It was during the middling years of the reign of Ahtaf I, that Tahirah, fourth child to the King of Ka-Sabar had been a part of an expedition to the west. She had learned well the ways of war in her youth, the expedition was also diplomatic mission meant to foster alliances with the desert tribes and to collect tribute from its barbarian people. Thus, in many ways this expedition had been a rite of passage for her. During their travel they had run afoul of the tribes of desert goblins that fought against the human tribes, many of her companions were slain and they had been forced to move off course from their intended path._

_When their expedition's supplies began to run out, many deserted in the night. Eventually only Tahirah herself remained, she wandered the desert waiting for death to claim her, whether it be from thirst, starvation or the tribes of goblins that still hounded her. Eventually she came upon a strange group of creatures who were tall, slender and pale skinned, their armor shone like silver and their garments were white like the clouds of a clear sky._

_The pale ones were fighting a group of goblins she had recognized as the ones who attacked her expedition. With a roar of vengeance she attacked the goblins who were occupied with their battle against the pale ones, her Khopesh split the arteries and severed the limbs of the greenskins, her fury had granted her a maddened strength and speed, but it had also made her reckless._

_She did not notice the blade from the goblin chieftain until it was too late, the sword had pierced her flesh and she fell into Usirian's embrace. She was not sure about what happened after, her memories had been hazy but she remembered seeing faces that were both beautiful and yet haunting at the same time. She remembered seeing a white tower, a ship with the head of an eagle and a banner of a fiery bird._

_By the time she recovered her senses she was found by one of the nomadic tribes who had allied with her people. The nomads told her that she was first found by the Silver Princes who nursed her back to health, and had left her in the care of the tribe. The Silver Princes had then left her some supplies and one of their swords which remained in her possession._

_Years later she would organize a campaign against the goblins, her army slew many of the foul vermin and they would secure the alliances of more tribes who would pay tribute to the Nehekharans. She had also sought out the Silver Princes again, she wanted to thank them for saving her but the search for them had proven fruitless._

* * *

Sheathing the sword into its scabbard, she called for Asim to accompany her. Her skeletal slaves had informed her that the Tomb Herald was already waiting by her chariot. The Tomb Queen swiftly moved towards the section of her pyramid where the chariots and cavalry elements of her army rested. She remembered the incredulity of the Necrotect Fenuku when she had asked that her tomb would also contain proper resting quarters for her soldiers, servants, slaves and horses. All the rage and fashion at the time had been about having the army buried along with the deceased king or queen and to be buried with vast amounts of wealth in the same chamber. She fondly remembered the Necrotect saying 'If you wish to build a palace to actually live in you should ask an architect'

She found Asim standing watch by her chariot, a group of skeletal slaves had tended to the wheels and polished the metal. The Tomb Herald saluted to her once more, she gave him a formal bow and took her place upon the back of the chariot while Asim himself drove. The skeletal horse which would pull the chariot eagerly pawed the dusty stone floor of the tomb and the slaves began pulling the chains which would open the gate of the tomb.

Ptra's holy light began to fill the tomb itself, sand and wind began to blow within, commanding Asim to proceed, the Tomb Herald whipped the reins and the horse first began to canter. The horse soon picked up speed and it entered into a gallop, the chariot rode out towards the golden sands of Blessed Land, once when she had still been of flesh and blood, she would have exalted in the feeling of the sun's rays and the wind upon her face. Now though she felt nothing but emptiness inside.

Outside the tomb, Tahirah and Asim were met by Kemsyt the Master of Scouts. She remembered that he was not a true child of the Blessed Land, but a member of the nomadic tribes which paid tribute to the Nehekharans. She had acquired his services during the wars against the goblin tribes in the west and she had been highly impressed by his skill. She remembered him as of being a stocky man with a funny beard which was pointed like the tip of a spear.

She remembered that he had also been a shameless lothario who constantly seemed to be getting in and out of troubles involving the daughters of merchants, nobles or with commoners. His antics had honestly amused her and his skill had been undeniable, which was the only reason why she made sure he was never executed or incarcerated for too long a period of time. She had suspected that his true reason for serving her in life was partly out of lust. It was sad that how one who had been so full of life was now just a skeleton which only remembered its duty and loyalty to her.

'Your orders my queen?' asked Kemsyt while bowing to her

'A living one has escaped, he must be found and slain, if he travels with any others then they too must die' commanded Tahirah.

With a bow of his head the Master of Scouts obeyed 'Your will be done…'

* * *

Riding upon a nightmarish contraption of a daemonic design, Jordis the Flesh Flayer proudly stood upon a platform made from the bones of the elves of Naggaroth. The platform was held aloft by twin curved bars of steel which formed into and a wide upside down C, attached to it were three great spiked wheels which churned through the sand. The chariot was pulled by two armored horses which were imbued with the gifts of the Dark Prince. She had seen the contraption in a drug induced vision, one of the Dark Prince's handmaidens had shown it to her and she immediately knew what exquisite havoc she could wreak with it.

The Chaos Champion was clad in an elegant and slender suite of plate armor which focused more on accentuating the curves of her body and revealing flesh rather than protection. What need would she have of armor as long as she remained fast? Upon her back was a leather quiver made from the supplest of child-flesh, within it were several ensorcelled throwing spears which would engulf whatever it struck in daemonic fire. Upon left hip she carried a leather whip made from orc-hide, the whip ended in seven barbed tails of black iron.

With a grin, she looked upon the warriors of her war band, twenty men, women and some who were a bit of both or neither rode upon horses which galloped and frolicked over the dusty dunes of sand. While the land itself was boring to her and the heat of the sun was an annoyance, her avarice and greed outweighed her displeasure and already she had flaunted more than a few new pieces of jewelry. Her hair of deep purple whipped in the air and she enjoyed the wind on her face, she then caught sight of a glint of gold in the distance and she became curious as to what it was.

Grabbing the whip with her right hand, she cracked the long leather object over the heads of the horses which pulled her chariot faster. She ordered her riders to investigate the glint of gold, she wondered if perhaps the skeletal ones had brought one of their chariots to play. If so then she would enjoy tearing it apart and using the gold on it to make new jewelry.

At a closer look she saw that indeed it was a chariot, a golden one fashioned like that of a winged bull. Upon the chariot were two withered looking corpses, one she note seemed to be richly dressed in armor of gold, lapis lazuli and jade and holding a bow while the other seemed broader, and heavily armored. These must be the scouts she thought with a bit of disappointment, with a shrug she stowed away the whip and reached for one of her javelins.

Raising her right arm and preparing to throw, she saw two of her riders suddenly fall with the horses collapsing on the ground and the riders being thrown out. Such loses were inconsequential to Jordis who hurled her spear, in mid-air the spear head burst with lavender fire, it flew straight and true into the chariot and to her surprise when the tip struck the head of the bull, there was merely a spark of light but nothing more. There must have been magic protecting that chariot she thought, she then resolved to aim for the riders or their steeds instead.

Her warriors were already hurling spears and axes towards the chariot, each weapon either missed or struck against the armored plates of the chariot, its driver was skilled enough know how to keep away from the effective range of the weapons of her riders. The archer on the chariot fired another arrow and another of the Slaaneshi champion's troops fell, another rider quickly fell and she realized there was a second archer.

As she reached for another spear, she saw two more of her riders falls, she cursed and scanned the area for the second archer, she spotted upon a series of hilly dunes to her right a skeletal rider wielding a bow who seemed to blend in with the sand. Her mind quickly calculated the distance between the two targets, she saw as two more of her riders fell and with a great heave she threw a second spear at the skeletal rider.

Her spear blazed with fire and it struck near skeleton rider, there was a flash of fire and the horse was thrown off of its hooves, it landed in a clatter of bones with the horse falling to pieces along with its rider. She scoffed at the waste of even one of enchanted spears but it was a necessity, her eyes gazed back to the chariot and she saw another of her warriors fell; it was as if the arrows of the archers moved upon their own accord.

Preparing for another throw, Jordis felt the sudden lurch of her chariot as the horse to her right screamed in pain, she was shocked to see an arrow had struck its right eye and it bucked began to buck. The sudden erratic movement of the horse caused the left side of her chariot to lose its balance, the horse on the right tripped and stumbled headlong into the sand, Jordis herself did not react fast enough to grab on to the rails.

The chariot of the Flesh Flayer flipped over with Jordis herself being thrown directly into the spiky wheels which impaled and sliced her body into many countless pieces, the last thing she thought of before she died was what a terrible idea it was to create a chariot like that.

* * *

Lying upon his back in the sandy dunes, Kemsyt felt a small sense of satisfaction at the destruction of the hellish contraption. His legs were all but shattered into many pieces and much of his torso had been destroyed as well, his horse of which he could not really remember the name of but had served him for a long time in life had been reduced to ashes. He skeletal hands still gripped his bow and he had managed to hold on to one of his arrows during his fall.

All that was left of the Master of Scouts was a torso with the arms and head still attached it, he looked to see his Queen if she was all right. A faint emotion filtered its way through him; he remembered it was called relief as his Queen fired more arrows into the barbarian riders. He admired the driving skill of Asim who could control a chariot as easily as Kemsyt himself could control a horse; he vaguely remembered how the two of them use to have a rivalry of sorts, both had shared a certain affectation to the queen of which Kemsyt himself was more eager to express.

A few more of the riders fell and it had been enough to drive the rest away. As soon as they had fled the Queen's chariot had turned to his direction, his mind calculated the speed and direction of which it had traveled and felt that half-remembered emotion of relief again as he concluded that it would not run him over. As the chariot came to a halt beside him, the Queen and Asim had disembarked, he saw her walk over to him and she lifted him up from the sands with her arms.

'Are you all right old friend?' asked the Queen with a hint of concern in her dry whispery voice.

For a brief moment Kemsyt remembered the smell of the perfume she had once worn in times of peace, of her sultry yet regal voice. He remembered his desire for her and what it was like to have flesh and blood, and then it was gone once more and he tried to think. She set him down by the side of the chariot while Asim had gathered up several of his bones. He tried to remember again about what it was like to be alive and all he could say in response was 'I continue to serve, my Queen'.

The Queen then ordered Asim to head back to the pyramid, he knew that their suspicion of an enemy army was now confirmed. The Queen would now rouse her army, soon the Legion of the Tahirah of Ka-Sabar would march to war once more.

* * *

'About time the bonemen started fighting back' grunted Thongvor Solingson

There was a chorus of agreements from the other more Khornate Champions who were all growing bored with the skirmishes and by all the report were the ones who kept starting fights with each other or the other groups.

'Be that as it may' said the Black King who sat upon his throne with his daemonic sword which blazed with dark energy rested upon his lap. 'If the undead begin to mass then we need to begin preparing for battle. I want all of you to organize your warriors and begin travelling in larger groups.' Silence passed among the gathered champions as some of them began eyeing each other warily. 'If none of you shall follow my command then we may settle the dispute now' he said while patting his sword for emphasis.

Some of the warriors bristled at this and tightly gripped their weapons, in the end none had drawn swords or evoked challenges. It was refreshing change for the Black King to work with warriors who cared more about material wealth over mindlessly pleasing the Dark Gods. He then dismissed the warriors who left his tent; the Black King had heard the report from the remaining riders of Jordis Flesh Flayer of their encounter in the desert, the survivors were fed to the ogres for their failure.

Already he began plotting whether he should take what gold he had gathered and go try his luck in the north of go further west to Araby. As much as the idea seemed like a good one he remembered how the Dawi Zharr had given him a year and a half to gather all of the gold and the slaves he need for their pact to be made.

He realized that aside from Lustria with it diseases, Lizardmen and the possible interferences of undead from the Vampire Coast, the Druchii of Naggaroth or the Asur of Ulthuan, Nehekhara seemed like a significantly safer bet where he would only have to contend with the desert heat and the undead. Yes, he realized, they will stay here and plunder until things get too dangerous, he reminded himself that this was just a raiding campaign not a full invasion.

Of course it was not as if the Black King came unprepared, indeed, when the Tomb Kings prepared their full might, the Black King had a surprise waiting for them, one which would make the deathless ones bow to the Black King…

* * *

Tahirah stood upon a dais of stone and bronze, her withered body was bathed in Neru's light which was brought in through a clever series of mirrors upon the top of her pyramid. Raising her silver sword high, the blade caught and reflected the light of Neru, and in unison her army began pound the bottoms of their spears or clash weapons against shields. Her warriors had awakened and already she had sent her Liche Priests and emissaries to awaken the other Kings or Princes.

She felt the heavy thundering steps of her sphinxes, her colossi and titans as they awakened. She had already received the reports of the many outlying crypts and sepulchers which were already raided in her sleep. Anger had filled the Tomb Queen, and anger which would only be sated with the deaths of those who went against _Ma'at _the Order of all things through _Isfet,_ Chaos.

When her army had fully awakened, they will slaughter these savages and they will return all of that which had been stolen. She swore in the names of Geheb god of earth and strength, of Asaph goddess of magic and vengeance and of Phakth god of wind and Justice. Her army stood at the ready for her, the serried ranks of bows, spears, swords, axes, shields, chariots, cavalry and greater things awaited her command. Each already knew what their queen desired, but their discipline and loyalty remained and all they needed was her voice to give the command. She then spoke, her words reached each of her warriors as if she spoke directly into where their ears had once been, her voice spoke in a commanding tone 'My will be done…'


	2. Preparations for War

Kneeling down into the muddy earth, the Lord looked upon the inferno which raged across his estate. His heart was filled with grief as his eyes barely held back the tears which had been ready to burst, his armor was stained in ash, and soot, much of his exposed flesh was red with burns. He heard the clatter of plate mail armor around him and his trance was broken, he saw several knights wearing the tabards of the Duke's own Knights of the Realm.

One of the men stepped forward, in his left hand he held a scroll which he unfurled and recited from it

'By order of Duke Marquand de Aquitaine! You have been charged and found guilty to the crime of Treason towards the Dukedom and all of Bretonnia!'

Lies! The Lord thought as his grief was quickly turned into shock and then towards anger. He was a Marquis for the Lady's sake! He had spent his entire life protecting Bretonnia from its enemies. Dozens of names came into the Lord's mind, names of his political rivals and enemies who would stoop so low as to murder the Lord's family.

His rage intensified, his wife and children of whom were now nothing but ashes within his estate. Swiftly reaching for his long sword which he had dropped beside him, the Lord rose up and charged the Knights of the Realm. He roared a bestial war cry as he swiftly plunged his sword into the neck of the Knight who had spoken earlier.

He heard the scraping sounds as swords were drawn from their sheaths. These fools dared to think that he was a traitor? Then so be it! He would slaughter them all! The Lord's anger granted him a maddened strength and agility, he moved faster than he should have despite his own plate armor, his vision was clouded in a red haze.

He heard a knight swear to the Lady and the Lord silenced the knight's prayers with a sword into the man's visor. The Lord began to curse the Lady of the Lake for this injustice; he began to curse the gods and his Kingdom for murdering his wife. As anger raged within and he saw the remaining knights beginning to back away, there would be no mercy for there could only be blood… his vengeance could only be repaid, in blood. Giving a loud, feral roar, he thought that he could hear a deep, dark laughter in the back of his mind.

* * *

The Black King's eyes opened as the dream faded. Slowly rising from his ivory throne, he removed his helmet, the one piece of armor which had yet to fuse with his flesh. The Black King was bald-headed and pale skinned man, with teeth which were filed sharp and the sigil of Chaos Undivided was tattooed upon his forehead.

Moving towards a keg filled with Norse Mead which stood on a set of short-legged wooden lags, of which also stood upon a sturdy wooden table. Picking up a tankard made from the bones of a defiled Shallyan Priestess which was placed beside the keg, he filled it to the brim. He drank the frothy and bubbling liquid which carried a bit of warpstone in it; he really needed the drink for the stress of the last few days had been getting to him.

The Tomb Kings were already on the march, it was inevitable really, but he had hoped that his war band would have more time. Countless warriors were slain in hit and run attacks, but the main force of their army had not yet committed. Already his army had nearly filled three-fourths of the quota they needed to pay the Dawi Zharr, but all of that had come to an almost grinding halt when the Tomb Kings organized themselves under one of their leaders. By all accounts from his surviving troops, the Tomb Kings forces they were fighting were led by an ancient queen in an ivory mask and a silver sword. These were not the mindless undead commanded by the Necromancers and Vampires, these undead warriors fought with the intelligence and cunning of men. There were also reports of raiders from the desert tribes launching attacks as well.

After finishing his drink, the Black King set the bone cup down and put his helmet back on. He decided that he should check on the progress of his war bands and their leaders. He also would have to check on the warlocks and sorcerers of his army, he had ordered them to prepare spells of summoning so that if need be, he could infuse his marauders with daemons and even summon the daemons themselves into the physical world.

As he made his way out, he made sure to rest his right hand upon the pommel of his daemon sword. He knew that before the day would be out, he will have need of it.

* * *

Haydar watched as the large party of Northmen warriors marched upon the sands of the, he wondered why the white skinned Northmen insisted upon wearing such barbaric garments which exposed so much of their flesh. He could see that many were red with sunburns. Most of his head was covered by his black turban which left only his eyes exposed to the desert sun. Raising his scimitar high, he signaled for his men to attack, with a loud ululating cry he kicked his horse into a gallop.

As the nomad warriors descended, Haydar sheathed his sword and pulled out his horse bow, taking an arrow from quiver which was attached to the side of his saddle, he swiftly placed an arrow upon the string. The Northmen roared in praise to their heathen gods as they began to raise shield and lift a variety of throwing weapons. With a prayer to Khsar upon his lips, he released the arrow and reached for another one, with satisfaction he saw a Northman fall with his arrow plunging into the Northman's right eye.

Several other Northmen fell from the arrows of his brothers as they ran circles around the Northmen. In response, the savage infidels hurled spears and axes towards the nomadic horse archers, one nomad fell with a javelin through his chest but the rest were unharmed. In vengeance for the dead nomad he believed was Hasim, Haydar fired more arrows into the Northmen party.

It did not take long before too many of the Northmen were cut down by their arrows and began to flee. Haydar stowed his bow and he pulled out his scimitar, with a roar of vengeance he rode into the back of the fleeing Northmen. His brothers had followed him in their charge; their scimitars glinted as it caught the light of Ptra.

Some of the Northmen looked back to see the nomads which closed in on them. One Northman, a typically blonde haired and blue-eyed savage looked to Haydar and in a swift moment, Haydar's scimitar beheaded the Northman before he plunged the blade into the back of another. The savages of course fought back, but they were at a disadvantage against the horse mounted nomads.

Haydar parried the strike of a sword before he quickly plunged it into chest of his attacker. Around him, the nomads fought with great fury towards the barbarians who would defile the golden deserts of the Blessed Land. Their horses as well had fought, their hooves crushed the chests of the Northmen and their teeth snapped at them as well.

When the last of the Northmen fell, the nomads released another loud, ululating cry in honor of their patron deity Khsar as well as to Asaph, goddess of magic and vengeance. Looking to his brothers, Haydar nodded to them, they all knew what was needed to be done next, the men reverently placed the dead man upon the back of his horse and they would give him a proper burial. They would ride towards the closest pyramid of the Undying Sovereigns; one he had been surprised in the past to learn was a distant ancestor of the blessed of Khsar Lord Tutankhanut, God-king of Numas.

He knew of course that there were many other Undying Sovereigns; chief amongst them was Settra the Imperishable. But the God-king of Khemri and all of Nehekhara required his vassals to be capable of defending their own realm from invaders, lest they be found incompetent and in need of replacement. It was fortunate that the closest of the Undying Sovereigns, one whose name was Tahirah of Ka-Sabar and widow of Ahnutep II of Numas was taking an active role in the fight against the savage Northmen.

Ordering his men to ride, the nomads would swiftly make their way to the fortress Pyramid of the Heroine of a Thousand Nights.

* * *

Poring over a series of maps which were laid over a stone table, Tahirah quietly planned and strategized her next move. They were currently within the war room of Tahirah's pyramid where well detailed tablets and scrolls detailing the maps of Nehekhara could be found. While there were still many groups of savages who wandered the desert and seeking more sepulchers and crypts to plunder, the main host had withdrawn near the coast. The Tomb Queen had experience dealing with these savage who rode upon their barbaric long ships, they would use them to withdraw and they would take what treasures were stolen from the Blessed Land. This, Tahirah could not allow.

On the other side of the stone table, there stood her command company, each one gazing at her expectantly with empty eyes holes. Tahirah's second in command and bodyguard, the Tomb Herald Asim stood at the center of the group. To Asim's right was the Necrotect, Fenuku of Lybaras who carried in his hands a strange metallic object of gold which he seemed to constantly like poke and tinker with. To the left of the Tomb Herald was the Liche Priest Onuris who held his staff in his right hand, his empty eyes studied the map intently for he was as skilled in tactics as he was in theology.

Tahirah remembered Onuris as a kindly Vizier who had been a grandfather-like figure to her; he had served her husband Ahnutep long before they had wed. She remembered during their living reign, the Liche Priest would often encourage her husband to push for edicts and decrees which favored the common folk. His advice had made her husband quite popular among the masses, not as much so with their fellow nobles of who were less pleased with some being a bit more than vocal about their disagreement. Fortunately, Asim had seen to it.

She remembered Fenuku as somewhat eccentric but brilliant architect and engineer of whom her husband had employed to build their tomb. The Lybaran Necrotect was well-known to Tahirah, for she had often employed his services during times of war. When she had fought in The War of a Thousand Nights, it was the artifice of Fenuku's constructs and war machines which allowed The Bronze Host of her home city to slay the mighty lizard beasts of the Serpent Lords.

It was with Fenuku's creations, which allowed the Bronze Host to tear down the ancient stone cities of the Serpent Lords. With their victory, they acquired the great treasures the Serpent Lords hoarded. And it was with one of the Necrotect's ballistae, The War of a Thousand Nights was wonwhen it seemed that destruction of the Ka-Sabaran army was assured. During the sacking of one of the stone cities, a bloated Toad-King of the Serpent Lords appeared and unleashed such powerful sorceries which devastated the Bronze Host.

When it seemed that defeat was inevitable and the devastated Bronze Host was beginning to rout, Tahirah had made it to one of the Necrotect's ballistae. With the aid of the Necrotect himself, they loaded a blessed bolt and aimed it at the Toad-King; it was Fenuku who pulled the lever which threw the massive bolt which blazed with holy fire. The Toad-King's arcane defenses were pierced and the bloated creature was impaled upon the ballistae bolt. The remaining Serpent Lords were quickly demoralized by the Toad-King's death and after Tahirah rallied the Bronze Host, the War was soon won. Although Tahirah had been given the credit and praise of being the great victor against the Serpent Lords, she had made sure that it was Fenuku's devices which were instrumental to their victory and that the Necrotect was well rewarded.

Shaking the memory way, the Tomb Queen looked to her three retainers and outlined her plan, although it was not needed, she simply did so out of habit from life. For days now her forces had been engaging the barbarian horde with hit and run attacks, her horse archers and _maryannu_ charioteers as well as Carrion flocks, Tomb Swarms and Scorpions. She sought to bleed out the savages before launching their full-scale attack which would crush them like a hammer upon an anvil.

The forces of Prince Sefu, a Numasi Lord sent by one of Tahirah's own descendants, Tutankhanut, would launch a head on assault against the _Isfet_ worshipping barbarians. She would then make use of Onuris' magic to swiftly carry them to the shores by barbarian ships. They had to make sure to cut off the escape route of the barbarians, lest the savages escape across the sea with their ill-gotten wealth.

When she had finished, her retainers formally bowed and in unison they whispered 'Your will be done'

* * *

'Everything will be ready mein herr' said Viktor Blause with a bow to the Black King as they stood within the entrance of the wide tent of the sorcerers lodge which was kept pleasantly cool through arcane means.

The lodge was currently inhabited by seven magicians of whom had all taken a role in the summoning. The Chaos Lord had come to check on the progress of the sorcerers and shamans in their ritual of summoning.

Already, they would have a host of daemons they would be ready to bring in when the Tomb Kings attacks. Specifically, the Black King had requested for Flamers and Horrors which primarily attacked with daemonic fire. A wise tactical choice really, for many of the mightier Tomb King Troops were quite flammable. They had also summoned some other powerful beings as well which they would be capable of bringing in at a moment's notice, in case the Tomb Kings brought some truly mighty things.

With a wordless nod, the Black King turned his back upon the sorcerer and took his leave. It had already been six days since the party of Norscans he had previously accompanied made the mistake of awakening the Tomb Queen who was now giving them so much trouble. The fact that the Marienburg born sorcerer had not yet been executed by the Black King's decree meant that either the Chaos Lord did not know of the sorcerer's failure to make sure the Tomb Queen did not awaken, or that he did know but realized the sorcerer was too valuable kill. Viktor hoped that it was the latter for it would mean the Black King would just kill him on a later date.

Looking over his right shoulder to the rest of the lodge, he saw many of his fellow magisters were quietly meditating or resting for the summoning rituals had been quite taxing. The Sorcerer himself felt weary and wanted nothing more than to rest. Squaring his shoulder, he walked out of the cool tent into the hot desert sun and towards his personal tent.

Momentarily blinded, the Sorcerer of Tzeentch was assailed by the smell of blood, sweat, and rot from the Northmen barbarians which surrounded him. The Marauders paid the sorcerer little heed while others did their best to stay out of Viktor's way. Although he was currently working with these savages to gather Nehekharan gold and relics for the Black King, he would rather be working with professional soldiers who maintained discipline rather than this rabble.

On the way to his tent, he caught a faint whiff of a fragrant arabyan perfume which soon began to become overpoweringly nauseating.

'Gutten tag herr Blause' purred the voice of Randolph Kauffman in Reikspiel.

Viktor looked behind him and he saw the bald-headed overweight slaneeshi cultist was riding upon his pack-horse which had a strange blank look in its eyes. Behind the cultist upon the saddle as well was one of Randolph's eunuchs, an effeminate looking youth of mid to late teens who caressed the disgusting Imperial from behind with his hands upon the fat man's belly.

Viktor never did like the followers of Slaanesh, they were so crass and vulgar to the point that it sickened him. 'Gutten tag to you as well herr Kauffman' replied Viktor as politely as he could in his native Reikspiel while trying to conceal his disdain for the slaaneshi.

'Off for a ride?' asked Viktor while trying to keep up his appearance of formality.

'Oh just counting the gold and all' Randolph replied with his jowls moving about as his eunuch began to rub his hands over the Imperial. 'I must say our fearless leader's little campaign has hit quite the snag don't you agree?' the main said in a cheery tone, there was something about it though that made the Marienburgher wary.

the Imperial said as he looked up with his right hand gently tapping over one of his chins

'Sid this not all start when you arrived back at the camp a few days ago?' he then said with a raised eyebrow. Viktor's face remained expressionless, but inside he was surprised. Did the slaaneshi know of the sorcerer's failure to break the Tomb Queen's seals? If so, would he report it to the Black King? The sorcerer then shrugged and spoke calmly

'As I have reported to our illustrious employer' he said 'My party had been assailed by a scouting party led by a champion of the Tomb Kings, the same ones mind you which likely slew Jordis and her riders'

'I see…' the fat Imperial said in an intrigued tone as if he had just heard a juicy bit of gossip 'Such a shame though, The Fleshflayer was quite a woman, not my taste though but still' he said with a mischievous grin. 'Well I have taken enough of your time, farewell' the Imperial said as he kicked his horse into a slow trot.

That fat slaaneshi was up to something Viktor realized. While the Marienburger himself was there in Nehekhara for his own agendas, he was fairly confident that his own goal would do little to interfere with the Chaos Lord's own; he wondered what the slaaneshi could want. A lot of things he supposed, but among the many things he had learned among the cults of chaos was that there existed plans within plans and that if you wanted to survive, you needed to know how to cover your tracks and how to outwit your rivals.

Feeling weight of his eyelids increase, the sorcerer shook his head trying to keep himself awake. He remembered having a few potions which should help him restore his arcane energies as well as his stamina, normally he would reserve them for emergencies. He had a feeling though that today may prove interesting, if the Tomb Kings attacked or if that slaneeshi was truly up to something, he would need his full arcane strength back.

* * *

Haydar watched as the Pyramid drew closer, he could see the many battlements and terraces which were being patrolled by skeletal archers which would now be getting ready to shoot the nomads. Reaching into his _Rakh-hajib_, his armored robes, he pulled out a bronze medallion depicting a winged scarab. He held up the medallion and shouted in the tongue of the ancients of their allegiance to Tutankhanut.

When no arrows fell, Haydar took it as a good sign. From the Tomb's entrance, he saw a skeletal horseman ride out, from the distance; he could see that it was one of their horse archers. The Horse Archer, like many of the other skeletal warriors, wore tattered robes and bronze helmet with scale links attached to the sides and the back, the skeleton had many cracks along its lower body, as if it were shattered and put together, its skeletal horse as well looked worse than the rider. The skeletal rider came to a halt near Haydar's band, it did not say anything but watched them silently, and the nomad then raised his bronze amulet and spoke in the ancient tongue.

'I am Haydar of the _bani-al-Hashim_, we serve the blessed of Khsar, Lord Tutankhanut and have come bearing one of our fallen and offer our services to the Undying Sovereign of this palace!' he said with calm solemnity.

The skeleton rider turned its undead horse around and it gestured with its right hand for them to follow. The nomads followed the horse archer into the entrance of the pyramid with only the sound of their horses' hooves to mark their passing.

When they had arrived inside the Tomb, Haydar saw the serried ranks of skeleton warriors armed with khopeshes, axe, shields and spears which stood at the ready in perfect rows like statues across a wide rectangular hall which was well-lit with torch-light. All around them, Haydar could see the mural, statues and hieroglyphs of the ancient Nehekharans, he saw several symbols and depictions of the winged bull, Geheb, god of strength. To their left and right there were the side passages which looked big enough for two people to move side by side, at the end of the hall to the north was a much larger passage, likely where the chariots and necrosphinxes could march from.

As the nomads dismounted their horses inside the entrance, two of them moved to Hasim's horse and carefully removed the corpse from the horse's back. A trio of unarmed skeletons clad in moldering kilts and bearing the rusted iron collars of former slaves came from the passage to their left and bowed to the nomads. The two nomads then gently laid Hasim's corpse in front of the skeleton slaves which carefully lifted the dead man from his shoulders lower back and legs. The horses of the nomads were unnerved but used to seeing the dead as much as the men were.

As the skeleton slaves carried Hasim's body away to the corridor to their left, Haydar heard the sudden thuds of spear butts hitting the stone floor and the clatter of khopeshes and axes against shields. Looking to the skeleton warriors, the undead legion raised their weapons high in salute, he then looked to the end of the great hall and his eyes widened in surprise. Striding forward in a silent and otherworldly grace was the Undying Sovereign of this tomb, the Sovereign walked ahead of a procession of large and heavily armed and armored Tomb Guards and Ushabti.

Quickly making way for the procession, the band of nomads from the _bani-al-Hashim _stepped to the sides a short distance in front of the skeletons along with their horses. They bowed low with their torsos bending and their hands resting on their knees. The procession of the Undying Sovereign carried on with only the sound of their skeletal feet stepping upon the stone floor and the jingling of their mail armor. The procession drew to a halt, and Haydar suddenly had an uneasy feeling that the undead were now watching his group.

Slightly lifting his head up with his eyes looked up to see the slender form of the Undying Sovereign who looked over her shoulder to her left and down upon Haydar. Her mask of polished white ivory depicted a beautiful face which looked upon him with a grim look of authority upon it, her magnificent gold and azure regalia which was embedded with Lapis Lazuli and Jade shone brightly under the torch-light, The Tomb Queen, Tahirah's empty eyes were upon the nomad. He noted the an unusual set of weapons beside her desiccated hips, there was an ornate golden Khopesh which was to be expected amongst the Undying Sovereigns but there was also a slender and beautiful silver sword of a design he had never seen before.

He heard a dry, whispering voice emerge from the Tomb Queen; it was an ancient and archaic form of his language. The Tomb Queen had requested to know who was in charge amongst the nomads and it was Haydar who replied respectfully in the tongue of the Ancients.

'I lead this humble band of nomads, Great One' Haydar said with gravitas as he bowed again 'I am Haydar of the _bani-al-Hashim_, we have come at the head of an army sent by God-King Tutankhanut, Blessed of Khsar and Lord of Numas'

'Thou hast hail from Numas?' whispered the Tomb Queen in an archaic version of the Nehekharan language, he thought he could hear a small bit confusion from the Undying Sovereign.

Silence passed and the Tomb Queen studied him, Haydar's heart began to pound as he knew full well that if the Tomb Queen desired him dead, there would be nothing neither he, nor his brothers could do to stop the dead.

The Tomb Queen then broke the silence and said 'Then thou shalleth ride unto battle with us, great shall be thine reward if sortie bears fruit.'

Haydar's eyes widened at the mention of the Tomb Queen's generous offer, to be gifted willingly with wealth from the Undying Sovereigns was a great mark of honor and prestige amongst the tribes which had settled in Numas.

'We shall ride with you then, Chosen of Geheb.' Haydar then said reverently as he accepted the Tomb Queen's offer 'the blood of the Northmen will stain the golden sands red'.

A moment of silence passed and the Undying Sovereign looked to the entrance of the pyramid, the light of Ptra could be seen from the outside as the sun shone high in what should be early afternoon.

The procession continued outside with the Tomb Guard and Ushabti marching in perfect unison, each of the dead moved the same leg at the same time. He had also noted the two smaller but no less impressive figures of a high-ranking Liche Priest and a Necrotect amongst the procession. Soon the Skeletons turned towards the entrance as well and they marched in unison as well, as the skeletons marched out of the tomb, Haydar ordered his brothers to mount up.

They would ride with the army of the Undying Sovereign and they would punish the infidels who dared to defile the Land of the Dead.

* * *

The Black King listened to the report from one of his scouts as he sat upon his throne within his tent; a large army of the Tomb Kings was now on the march towards their war camp. Dismissing the scout and ordering his guards to summon his riders, he did not have to wait long before a band of bow-legged Hung marauders stepped into his tent. The Black King swiftly gave them the message that he wanted each of the war bands to return as soon as possible, any who do not comply or tarry will be slain.

As the Hung marauders left the tent and mounted up, the Black King continued to sit and brood upon his throne. Already his preparations were in place, when his scattered war parties returned, they would form up into a proper battle line and march upon the army of the dead. Although his losses would be heavy from their archers, it was of little consequence for the sheer number of troops he had would be enough to close in.

He would have his magicians summon several daemons to charge the flanks of the Tomb Kings when they were fully engaged. The daemons of Tzeentch would set the dead ablaze and reduce their moldering bones to ashes, their souls which were still bound to their bodies would serve as payment for the services for daemons. It amused him how even the immortal had their price.

Of course there was the possibility that his marauders, warriors, daemons and the beastmen thralls they kept would not be enough. If that was the case, he carried an arcane relic, much like the fabled Idol of Kolkuth which would be capable of whisking him away from the battlefield and retreat to the Longships. Upon the Longships, he made sure to keep aboard his most loyal and least expendable of warriors to watch the gold they had plundered and ensure no surprise attacks from the Tomb Kings, or warriors from his own army who got too greedy.

Aboard the ship, he also kept many ogre mercenaries who had foolishly made the mistake of consuming too much warpstone laced food in their gluttony. The stupid creatures were now nothing more than loyal guard dogs for the Black King. As he began to formulate more plans and contingencies, his gaze fell once more upon the golden ring which was still wrapped around the obsidian plate of his left ring finger of which was covered in his gauntlets.

When this campaign was over, and he had the war machines from the Dawi Zharr, he had promised that Bretonnia will burn. He would rain fire down upon its coasts as an opening for his campaign, and when the storm came, he would make sure that the land of chivalry would be nothing but a crippled lamb, waiting for the slaughter. The ring was also his promise, a reminder of his pledge to see the land of his birth aflame.

* * *

Looking up to Ptra's holy light which would soon begin to set, Tahirah felt nothing but the familiar cold emptiness of her undead state. The glare of the sun did not bother her empty eyes; she could not feel the harsh winds which blew sand upon her bare, withered flesh. She remembered how during harsh winds such as these she would have had to don heavy and thick robes of cotton to protect herself from it. Ever since she had spoken to the mortals from Numas, she found herself trying to remember, more than usual about the simple things of what it was like to be of the living once more.

The Tomb Queen and her regiment of Tomb Guard, Ushabti, Sepulchral Stalkers, and several other foot troops stood in silence a few miles south of her tomb as they waited for Prince Sefu's army her banners were held high to show her identity. Curiously though among her retinue, was Fenuku of whom carried upon his back a strange hollow metal staff with the top end resembling a Cathayan Dragon, she wondered what it was for she had never seen such a thing before. She had asked him what it was, he answered with a smile and cryptically said 'a surprise, my queen'.

She had already sent out Kemsyt as well as her chariots, cavalry units and the nomads to make for the coast. After half an hour of waiting, she saw in the distance the glint of golden light and the great dust storm which was kicked up by Sefu's army. Waiting once more as undeath had made her eternally patient; she was slightly surprised to see what the Prince had brought. She could see that aside from Prince Sefu's own chariots, and cavalry, he had brought many sphinxes both of the mountable Warsphinx variant and the mighty Necrosphinxes. She saw many Necropolis Knights riding their serpentine mounts and more conventional cavalry and chariots as well. Most impressively were the massive Colossae and Hierotitans whose very steps caused the earth to tremble.

Either Prince Sefu had been a very wealthy lord in life, or he had the favor of Tutankhanut to have access to such a mighty host. Its size in conventional troops alone was more than enough to crush her own, Sefu as well had a much larger number of monstrous units; of course there was also one thing which she was sure the Prince did not have as she surveyed his army. As the army of Prince Sefu drew closer, she also saw many living warriors clad in black robes like the nomads she had seen earlier, these mortals seemed at ease to be riding amongst the dead.

Looking among the chariots, she did not see any which bore a special marker to signify which one bore Prince Sefu, but there were many belonging to lesser princes. She then saw one of the Warsphinxes break off from the army and it began to move directly towards Tahirah's position. She noted a howdah upon its back and a large tattered banner upon the sphinx, its red silken fabric was outlined in gold, and upon it were a set of hieroglyphs praising the past deeds of Prince Sefu. As impressive as the Prince's army was, it smacked of brazenness and one who was being overly boastful.

The Sphinx slowed its pace and soon halted in front of Tahirah and her Tomb Guard who stood still as statues. The lion skulled sphinx gently lay down to the sands upon its belly. Upon its howdah of red-painted wood, golden bars and gilded orc skulls, she saw the Tomb Guard of Prince Sefu; each one carried a long-handled spear which radiated with energy. The Prince himself stood out, he was clad in armor of red and gold which was decorated with rubies and topazes, the Tomb Prince wore a fierce golden mask, depicting a roaring warrior.

In his hands, she saw that he carried a massive khopesh which a mortal man would need both hands to carry. As the Numasian Prince disembarked from his sphinx, he walked towards Tahirah and the two ancient nobles crossed their arms over their chests in an X shape they bowed and formally greeted one another.

'In the name of the most Holy Ptra, The Glorious' said the Numasi prince with courtly propriety, his Nehekharan was perfectly that of Tahirah's generation 'Lord of the Sun and creator of Heaven and Earth. I greet you, Queen Tahirah, Slayer of the Infernal Kings and Bane of the Serpent Lords'

'In the name of Geheb the Mighty' replied Tahirah 'Lord of Strength and Stone, Patron of Warriors, I greet you, Prince Sefu of Numas, Piercer of a Thousand Hearts and Eradicator of the Green Hordes' As their greeting ended, the two ancients rose and it was Sefu who spoke first.

'It is an honor to fight alongside you Queen Tahirah' he said in a reverent tone 'in my generation, a thousand years after your passing, your tale was an inspiration to many warriors of Numas'

'I am flattered then that my name had lived on for so long' the Tomb Queen replied in honesty 'I have heard of your deeds as well Prince Sefu, and it has pleased me that Numas remained strong after my passing.' She then looked once more to his army and asked 'Is this army all yours?'

'Not all, Great Queen' Sefu replied 'Many are from Prince Tutankhanut's own army'.

Tahirah's suspicion was confirmed that Sefu was favored of Tutankahnut, it was also likely that the Prince of Numas wished for her political support, for even in death, the dangerous politics of the Nehekharan aristocracy remained. Tutankhanut was also sending her a clear message on the strength of his army if this was just a spare force.

'I trust you have received my letter?' Tahirah asked as she cast her gaze back upon Prince Sefu

'Indeed, Great Queen' Sefu replied 'I will drive my forces like a hammer into the heart of the horde. And you shall move your own to the coast and obliterate their ships before striking like a knife in the dark.'

'Are we in accord then, Prince of Numas?' Tahirah asked once more.

'We are Great Queen' Sefu said with a bow 'let us unleash the wrath of The Blessed Land, and enslave their souls'.

Crossing their arms into Xs once more, they bowed and bid farewell, Sefu climbed upon his Sphinx which would rise up and lead the march once more.

Tahirah then looked to Onuris and nodded. The Liche Priest began chanting a prayer to Khsar, the winds began to blow more fiercely and the sands began to flow with it. Its rage and power increased and soon Tahirah's entire army of foot soldiers were engulfed by the sandstorm. As time passed and the winds raged on, it eventually calmed and abated, leaving no trace of their passing.

* * *

A small sandstorm whirled far to the west of Tahirah's pyramid in sight of the Chaos army which was now on the march. When it calmed and ceased, the Necrotect Fenuku and two Ushabti walked out of the storm and walked north from the pyramid. They traveled for a short distance to a series of four standing pillars, each one carved with hieroglyphs. At the center of the pillars was a stone lectern with a large round depression upon the center, the Necrotect reached for his old satchel of horse hide which lay upon his left hip.

From the satchel he removed a golden sphere which was embedded with ancient sigils and rubies. Placing the sphere into the depression with his back now turned to the invading army, he began whispering an incantation, the ground began to tremble but the three undead did not lose their balance. As the tremors which the Chaos army would certainly feel continued, the Necrotect could not help but raise his withered lips into a smile.

From the sands emerged a massive round shape of bronze and gold, it its carapace shone brightly as it reflected the glory of Ptra. Sand cascaded down from it to reveal a massive beetle like head made from gold, its legs which were massive sharp spikes were gilded and forged to resemble the heads of hawks. Its onyx lower body shone in the light of the sun, the shell then lifted up to expose massive golden wings styled as well like that of a hawk.

As the massive construct, a Khmeric Titan, rose from the sands, Fenuku raised his hands with his arms outstretched he looked back to the Chaos army and he shouted in triumph with his voice being mystically carried by the sandy winds 'LOOK UPON MY WORK MORTALS! AND DESPAIR!'


	3. Daemons and the Dead

Fire rained from the sky as the war machines of the Infernal Kings belched forth their destructive payloads. Countless skeletal warriors were reduced to ashes as balls of fire struck against the armies of Numas. Leading the charge of the Numasi legion, Ahnutep II rode upon his golden chariot. Driving the mighty war chariot himself as he rode alongside his wife Tahirah and Tomb Herald Asim, just as they had done in life, now they rode to war in undeath.

Fittingly, it was against the very foe which he had come to hate. Pointing his khopesh at the warriors of the Infernal Kings, Ahnutep released a loud and dry war cry as he signaled for his _maryannu_ to strike. With the sands of the Blessed Land providing the chariots with a dense screen to block the vision of the Infernal Kings, he led his force into the rear of their army.

As the chariots rode over the sandy dunes, Ahnutep's chariots emerged from the sandstorm. The golden plates upon their chariots captured the full glory of Ptra, in response the Infernal Kings and their slaves began turning their war machines around, but it was too late. With a crash of metal, wood and bone against flesh and dark steel, blood was spilled upon the sands as Ahnutep's Khopesh beheaded a green skin slave.

Tahirah and Asim quickly leapt off from the back of his chariot. Armed with swords and shields, he looked back to see the silver sword of his wife stab in and out of the flesh of a tan skinned and corpulent beast. His herald guarded her flank and with great sweeps of his khopesh, he decapitated several warriors of the Infernal Kings and the slave creatures which sought to stop them. The chariots which followed the Tomb King carefully avoided his wife and Herald as they disgorged a Tomb Guards as well.

From the sands burst several Sepulcheral Stalkers, Tomb Scorpions and Swarms which quickly went onto the assault upon the Infernal Kings. Focusing his gaze ahead of him, Ahnutep saw a warrior of the Infernal Kings get caught in the rotating blades upon the side of his chariot's wheel. With a dry laugh he saw the stunted creature's blood spatter his bandages.

Raising his sword high and waving it towards the war machines, Ahnutep's _maryannu _turned their chariots around with disciplined precision. As the chariots of the Numasi king readied for another charge, Ahnutep heard the loud boom as one of the war machines belched forth a ball of fire. Feeling a echo of an emotion course through him as the fiery projectile flew towards the Tomb King, Ahnutep remembered what that emotion was… terror.

The massive ball of daemonic fire struck against the chariot of the Tomb King. The Tomb King's withered body, along with his horses, the chariot, armor and everything along with the chariots of the closest of the _maryannu_ were engulfed in fire. The fire quickly subsided and there was nothing but sand and ashes of the Tomb King and his chariots.

A loud high pitched sound filled the very sky and echoed around the battlefield; the echo was carried off upon the winds and could be heard from miles around. Small animals and insects buried themselves in the sands in terror; vultures flew off in terror from their feeding. Children from the nomadic tribes clutched mothers for protection as the women-folk dismissed it as a figment of their children's imaginations. The sound was a cry, a shriek of anguish which echoed for miles from the now widowed Queen.

* * *

'SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!' roared Thongvor Solingson as he decapitated one of the bone men.

Roaring praises to Kharneth, the warriors of his clan began singing the Saga of Argris Blood Reaper. An ancient chieftain and ancestor of Thongvor himself, Argris had fought many mighty battles against the Blood Drinkers and their armies of walking corpses and had offered their stolen blood and skulls to the Blood God. Joining the song of his men, Thongvor smashed his shield against a skeleton and he hacked another one directly upon the skull.

It had been too long since he had a proper battle like this. Too many days of pillaging from the other war bands as if he were engaging in skirmishes back in Norsca or the disorganized defenses of the bone men had proven quickly boring to Thongvor. While indeed the bone men were still not a perfect enemy for they did not bleed or show pain, a number of their warriors proved to be worth the effort for Thongvor knew Kharneth enjoyed feats of martial skill as well.

Feeling a sudden tremor from the ground beneath him, Thongvor nearly lost his footing and he barely managed to block a spear strike from a skeleton. With a quick thrust of his axe, he obliterated the ribcage of a skeleton and was forced to deal with the fight at hand. Shattering another skeleton by slamming his axe into its right collarbone, Thongvor blocked a sword slash and countered by cutting off the skeletons right arm.

As he fought with berserk fury, Thongvor noticed a shadow looming over him. Briefly looking up, his mouth was left wide open as he saw a massive flying monstrosity of gold and obsidian. It somewhat resembled those beetle things he often saw on the murals of the Nehekharans. To his surprise he saw that there were three mummies riding atop of the giant beetle.

One of the mummies held a strange hollow staff like object in its hands and the Norscan chieftain realized what it was. A rifle, the mummy had a rifle, he then saw the mummy point the rifle at him and with a loud boom from the rifle, Thongvor's head exploded in a shower of blood and bone.

* * *

Firing the Cathayan Dragonstaff he had found many years ago in Lahmia, Fenuku watched with satisfaction as a barbarian's head exploded. Quickly pouring a new bit of fire-powder along with the lead ball, he jammed it in and placed a new wick upon the side. Setting the wick ablaze using the fire provided by one of the Ushabti guards the queen had given him, he took aim at another large savage.

With years of marksmanship practice from his time in life and undeath, he shot another mortal in the chest. The Ushabti which had been assigned to him fired at the savages with their great bows as they maintained their position upon the howdah which the Necrotect had added in the Titan's design. A shame really that in life, he had not been able to ride his Khmeric Titan like this, he could see why the Necropolis Knights fought upon them.

Its Reaping blades brought bloody ruin to the savages, the very air around it was charged with magic which weaken and demoralize the living. It spawned swarms of flesh eating scarabs which descended over the barbarians and stripped the flesh from their bones. It was the greatest work of art during Fenuku's life, and now in undeath it stirred the faint emotions of pride and enjoy in his withered husk.

Although he had personally designed the body of the Titan, its will was its own for within the metallic hide, lay the resting place of a great warrior. The Khmeric Titan was also the resting place of Rahtma-sur, a great general who had personally served Settra himself. He who had won countless victories against the greenskins, barbarians and Lizardmen, even the Queen and the Necrotect himself had served under the General during the War of a Thousand Nights. A general who had in life, been the elder brother of the Necrotect.

* * *

'Prepare the sacrifice!' ordered the Black King as the massive scarab thing slaughtered his marauders by the dozens.

His cabal of magisters obeyed and began forming into a ring. Words of power escaped their lips as one amongst them, an aspiring champion walked into the center of the ring with bloody runes cut into his very flesh. The aspiring champion joined in the chant as well, his eyes rolled up and blood began to pour from his mouth as the dark ritual commenced.

Raw magic began to fill the aspiring champion, he raised his arms wide and he began to ascend into air upon Aethyric wings. With a loud roar of praise as the flesh within the aspiring champion began to bulge and distort as something tried to escape. An aura of energy began to emanate from the champion and the Black King could see the very thing which had possessed the champion.

'BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!' roared the aspiring champion in triumph before he swiftly descended upon the sands as quickly as a bolt fired from a crossbow. The Black King heard the splat as the champion's body struck the sands in an unnatural shower of gore which showered the sorcerers and the Chaos Lord himself. Rising from where the champion fell, a mighty Blood Thirster of Khorne arose in a parody of a birth.

The Greater Daemon raised its head high and roared in triumph towards the sun, the blood which had spattered upon the sands began to bubble and steam. From the pools of blood, several wiry red skinned daemons bearing swords which blazed with daemonic fire emerged. The Blood Thirster raised its mighty axe towards the Tomb Kings army; it directed its legion of Bloodletters and finished the war cry

'SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!' boomed The Greater Daemons voice. The Blood Thirster then leapt into the sky and began flapping its mighty wings; it saw the massive scarab and knew which would be the most worthy of foes.

Watching the battle from afar, the Black King stayed his own hand. The decision of whether he should remain and fight or head for the ships was still being weighed. It was just a matter of time, the Black King thought; this battle would determine whether he should take his campaign elsewhere or if he would return to the north in glory.

* * *

Hroag watched with an uneasy feeling as he saw the sandstorm appear near the shores. Standing sentry upon one of the Long Ships as ordered by the Black King, the Chosen had fought and killed in battles across the wastes and the Old World for more than a hundred years. There were few things which could unnerve him, and few which could make him feel as he did now, there was something unnatural about that sandstorm, and he just knew it.

As the storm drew closer, he could feel the grains of sand clattering against his armor. He tightly gripped the hilt of his bronze skull headed mace in anticipation for something to emerge. Glancing to his fellow Chosen around him, he saw that they too felt the same as he did. The sandstorm soon began to abate and the Chosen saw the glints of gold concealed by the storm.

'To Arms! To Arms!' roared the voice of Ralof Spineshatter. From the shifting sands, emerged several of the Tomb Kings. Clad in their moldering bandages and armor of gold, the Tomb Kings slowly advanced towards the long ships. With practiced discipline, the Chosen formed a phalanx with their weapons and shields at the ready, they descended the sturdy whalebone gangplanks and Hroag could see that upon the other ships, warriors of chaos, ogres and a few minotaurs were forming up as well, each eager to meet the undead foe.

Descending upon the soft, sea soaked sands, Hroag removed his mace from the leather thong attached to his belt. The daemon magic within flared to life as fire began to burn upon the head of the mace. With a grin underneath his horned helmet, the Chosen was eager to do some good old fashioned maiming, killing and burning… especially with the burning.

'For Chaos!' Roared Hroag at the front and center of the phalanx as the Chosen drew closer, 'For the Dark Gods!' roared his brethren in unison.

The bestigors and the ogres were the first to crash into the skeletal army, they roared and laughed as their weapons severed spines and broke bones. As the Chosen picked up their pace, they too would crash into the skeletons as with the force of a battering ram. Swinging his mace blazing mace, Hroag shattered the skeletal warriors as easily as if he were massacring children.

The spears, swords and axes of the skeletons did little to harm the Chosen who were clad head to toe in ensorcelled armor. Their shields expertly blocked against the strikes of the skeletons and their weapons obliterated the armor of the dead which could have just been for decoration for all Hroag could care. As the Tomb Kings fell by the dozens against the elite of the Black King's army, Hroag heard the sudden wrenching of steel and a gurgle from one of his brethren.

He saw Ralof get knocked down and was trampled by the other Chosen, a spear sized arrow had impaled him upon the throat. He looked up to see several more of the spear sized arrows fall from the sky, several more of the chosen were impaled by the arrows, their shields which were raised in defense were becoming severely dented by the hail with more than a few unlucky Chosen being cut down.

Following the volley of giant arrows, Hroag saw in the distance, several large, animal skulled Tomb Kings wielding large bows. Each of the Tomb Kings unleashed a punishing volley of fire, from the sockets of their eyes, he could see the white glow of arcane energy. Feeling a tremor from the sands beneath, Hroag saw several massive creatures with skeletal upper bodies and serpentine lower bodies burst out in a shower of sand, each armed with large pole arms.

Their eyes glowed with a horrifying magic light, it was the last thing the Hroag saw as the Transmogrifying Gaze of the Sepulchral Stalker caused the flesh and bones of the Chosen transmute into sand. All around the now dead Chosen, several of his brethren were transmuted into statues of sand, their bodies stood remained there, still as statues until their comrades or the Tomb Kings struck them.

The statue which had once been Hroag, the veteran of more than a hundred years of bloody war within the Chaos Wastes was struck by one of the Sepulchral Stalkers. His armor clattered upon the ground as the sand which had once belonged to the Chosen, joined the sea of sand.

* * *

Leaping off the sand, Tahirah flew towards the back of one of the malformed Ogres. The brute which had been too busy pummeling her skeleton warriors did not notice the Tomb Queen until it was too late. With her swords impaling the beast where a living man's shoulder blades would be, several tooth filled maws opened upon the brute's flesh, each trying to take a bite out of the Tomb Queen as the Ogre howled its agony.

Pulling the blades down with supernatural strength, Tahirah sliced the ogre's back down to the sides of its bloated belly and showering the Tomb Queen with gore. Quickly pulling the blades out and kicking off of its back, Tahirah dodged the sweep of its club which would have shattered her skull. Swiftly charging back towards the Ogre as she landed, Tahirah closed in and stabbed her swords into the ogre's bare thighs before it could even regain its footing.

The Ogre roared in pain and attempted to deliver a knee kick to the Tomb Queen, its movement was slowed enough for Tahirah to weave around it for the enchantment upon her silver sword already begun to spread its entropic energy, meanwhile the magic upon her other blade should have begin to cause a great burning pain in the brute's other leg. As the beast turned about and attempted to crush the Tomb Queen with its club, Asim leapt towards the ogre and he drove his khopesh into its is mouth. The Khopesh burst from the back of the ogre's head and the Tomb Herald drove the blade up and split the beast's head in half from the mouth to the top.

Landing upon his bony feet Asim looked to Tahirah and gave a subservient nod to the Tomb Queen who spoke 'A fine strike, but I was about to slay that beast.'

'Apologies my queen' Asim replied 'but your presence is now needed upon the enemy ships'

Looking to the barbarian ship, Tahirah could see that there were still many living warriors aboard them. Already, her archers and Ushabti were raining arrows upon the decks of the ships. Already in the distance, she had seen her army's cavalry which had bypassed the barbarian army and were making their way to the enemy ship. With a nod to her Tomb Herald, Tahirah ordered for her warriors to board.

* * *

Finishing another spell, Viktor leaned heavily upon his staff as he watched the packs of Horrors and Flamers march down the hill towards the Tomb Kings. The undead army was even more massive than he had expected, countless skeletons, chariots, massive constructs and other things continued to assail them. It was like being caught in an Ork Waaagh! Or a Skaven assault where the creatures would use sheer numbers to try to overwhelm an opponent.

Reaching into one of his satchels, he pulled out his last elixir. Removing the stopper and imbibing its contents, he soon felt revitalized from its alchemical mixture. Looking across the field, he saw that while the undead had suffered heavy losses from the assault, they continued to send more and more of their troops across the sands.

Already, more than half of the Chaos Host's numbers of both Beastmen and Marauders were slain. The Daemons his coven had summoned were the only things which were keeping the battle in that delicate balance as they clashed with the animated constructs and skeletal warriors of the Tomb Kings. Upon the dunes, the Black King watched impassively as the army fought and bled, in the sky above, the Blood Thirster chased the Khmeric Titan like a hawk seeking a smaller bird.

The Chaos army was not the only ones with fire though for the Tomb Kings had brought their own. Even from his position, Viktor could hear the distant screams as the Nehekharan catapults fired volleys of flaming skulls. When he had investigated the nature of these skull earlier through his Witchsight, he was surprised to find that each one carried the final agonized moments of so many killed by the undead.

He had been surprise to see that many of the skulls belonged to the warriors who had been killed in this campaign. Using his Witchsight once more, he could see that the mood of the chaos army was on the edge. Many of the Marauders were just about ready to turn and flee, and so many of the beastmen were fleeing with many slaughtering their own in their attempt to flee from the dead.

As his coven of fellow magicians began another bout of spell casting, another aspiring champion stepped forwards. Words of power escaped the lips of the sorcerers and they began summoning a Greater Daemon of Tzeentch. The aspiring champion joined in their ritual, with a ceremonial knife; he began to cut sigils of the Great Changer upon his very flesh. They would drown the dead in a tide of blood and fire.

* * *

Rising high into the sky as he directed the Khmeric Titan to ascend, Fenuku aimed the Dragonstaff at the massive winged, red skinned and axe wielding daemon which assailed them. With a loud boom from the hollow weapon, he cursed as he had missed. The Ushabti continued to fire their great arrows at the daemon, but their weapons seemed to be but needle pricks to the giant.

The daemon continued to flap its wings as it soared through the sky, it roared in rage and anger as it gave chase. As much as Fenuku would love to have the Titan engage in an epic duel against the winged daemon, he would very much prefer to avoid having the Titan be as damaged as possible, especially when there were more efficient ways to kill such a foe. Directing the Titan towards the Numasi battle lines, the daemon swiftly followed them in its rage, and into the sights of the Colossae and the Hierotitans.

As the Necrotect expected, the Collossae and the Hierotitans turned their gaze upon the winged daemon. The Hierotitans raised their staves and shafts of bright burning light were directed upon the daemon which roared in anguish as its very essence was burned by the blessed magic within the giant staves. The Collosae aimed their bows carefully and opened fire upon the daemon, each shaft was hurled with the might of a bolt thrower.

The daemon's wings were impaled and torn by the shafts, it quickly began to struggle to fly but too many holes had been torn in its leathery wings. The daemon fell from the sky as Ptra's holy light burned the abomination; it crashed into the battlefield where barbarians and the armies of the dead still fought. As the daemon crashed into the ground, the Necrotect expected for there to be a great impact but instead, the daemon's body dissolved into a shower of blood.

Ordering the Khmeric Titan to descend, he was eager to allow the sands to run red with the blood of the barbarians.

* * *

With a swift swipe of her khopesh which was blessed by the priest's of Ptra, Tahirah decapitated a horned helmeted barbarian clad in heavy armor; the body fell to the wooden deck as blood gushed out like a fountain. Another barbarian swung a blazing sword towards the Tomb Queen and the weapon was intercepted by the sword of Asim who slapped the burning weapon upwards. The Tomb Queen swiftly took advantage and with a deft thrust of her silver sword, the blade pierced the chain links beneath the barbarian's right armpit.

The barbarian roared in pain as the deathly powers of Usirian began to spread. With a bash from Asim's shield, the barbarian was knocked back and the Tomb Herald swiftly followed with a thrust of his sword which pierced the chest plate of the barbarian. As the armored barbarian fell, the Tomb Queen surveyed the deck of the ship. Her Tomb Guard had suffered heavy losses but the barbarian ship was now cleared of any warriors, she could see that upon the other ships, her Sepulchral Stalkers, Ushabti and Skeletal warriors still did battle against the barbarians as Onuris used his magic to assist them.

With a quick series of commands, the Tomb Queen ordered her Tomb Guard to disembark and head to the next ship. Already, a squadron of skeletal slaves equipped with lumber axes would begin sabotaging the riggings and several of the important pieces needed for it to sail. They did not need to destroy or burn down the ships for now; they just needed to make sure none were sailable for the barbarians.

Around one ship, she saw Kemsyt leading his horse archers as well as the living nomads around the ships. Their arrows continued to rain down upon the ship and the barbarians who still fought upon it. With skeleton warriors and Ushabti already forming up and preparing to board, the Tomb Queen was confident that she would not be needed there.

Descending upon the sands once more, the Tomb Queen directed her honor guard towards one particular ship which she could feel was heavy with stolen treasure; among the treasure, there was a potent artifact which radiated with power. Curiously, she saw no barbarians guarding it and she could not sense the presence of any of her troops upon it. Regardless, they needed to sabotage that ship as well.

* * *

Watching the mighty display of magic in the sky, the Black King saw The Lord of Change his sorcerers had summoned do battle against the Tomb King's sorcerous statues. He had honestly been surprised at how quickly they slew the Blood Thirster, with a shrug he resolved that he would learn from this battle. The Greater Daemon of Tzeentch though proved far more effective for it countered the magic of the Tomb Kings with its own.

He saw the Greater Daemon generate a shield of shimmering light to absorb the rays of light from the statues before countering with a volley of lightning bolts which obliterated one of the statues. As the sorcerous display of power raged across the sky, upon the ground, the daemons of Tzeentch and Khorne battled alongside his remaining marauders and beastmen. He watched as several of the Tomb Kings own monstrous units clash against his own.

In quiet amusement, he watched Slaughterbrutes battles against winged Tomb King Creatures of obsidian and gold with great scything blades for arms. He watched Bloodletters riding upon Juggernauts of Khorne engage in deadly duels against skeletal knights riding upon serpentine mounts. He watched as furies and harpies did battle with massive undead vultures. He watched as a group of giant scorpions burst from the sands to assail a pack of Mutaliths and Chaos Spawn.

It was glorious for the Black King to see. His warrior heart, the part which paid great obeisance to Khorne watched in satisfaction at the great battle being fought, a titanic battle between mighty armies. As much as he wished to participate, he had more important plans to set in motion, ones which he could not risk jeopardizing no matter what.

* * *

'You traitorous bastard!' roared a Norscan before his head was severed from his neck by a large crab claw. The dead man's head sprayed blood in pleasing patterns to Randolph Kauffman. Looking about on the deck of the Longship, he was pleased that his harem of whom had now shown their true selves were clearing the deck of the Black King's troops.

It was all so deliciously pleasing thought the slaaneshi cultist. He had come to this dreary and hot land in search for some artifact called the Eye of Sakhmet his master wished to acquire. Instead of having to dig it up himself in some filthy, trap-filled tomb, he just had those silly northmen to get it for him.

Oh Slaanesh must really be favoring him he thought. His "eunuchs" gracefully walked upon the decks as they savored the blood and souls of the northmen, their lithe bodies were transformed by the daemonettes which had been bound inside their flesh back in Altdorf. He would be sure to "reward" his pets when they came back in triumph.

'Search the cargo hold for the Eye and prepare to cast off!' commanded the cultist and his possessed harem obeyed.

'Master' spoke one of his harem in a lovely song-liked voice and it tittered 'The bonemen wish to play'

Looking over the side of the long ship, he saw several of the undead marching towards the ship. How amusing he thought as he reached for a pouch on the side of his belt. Grabbing the pouch, he quickly opened it to reveal a fine bit of pink colored warp dust which had been especially consecrated by the followers of the Dark Prince. Inhaling the warp dust and feeling the fine grains enter his nostrils; his eyes dilated as he felt the rush of arcane energy build up inside him.

Grinning in triumph, he felt the magical high of the warp dust as his vision became a wondrous kaleidoscope of colors. Whispering words of power, he felt the orgiastic agony as a long, hard, rope like tendril sprouted out from his right wrist and in his other hand, a nimbus of pinkish mist began to appear. Raising his left hand up with his palm in front of his lips, he blew the mist which quickly began to expand and spread across the decks.

From the mist, several lithe shapes began to materialized and dance. From the mist came several handmaidens of the Dark Prince, each with fine pale skin and wielding daggers, swords, whips and claws. The Daemonettes tittered and cavorted and the cultist ordered them to attack. Unleashing a loud shriek of ecstasy, the daemons bounded and raced towards the dead.

* * *

Watching in satisfaction as the warriors of the Undying Sovereigns began cutting down the barbarians aboard the ship, Haydar called to his men and ordered for them to regroup. Already, many of the ships were being boarded with heavy fighting still taking place. Already running low on arrows, the warriors of the _bani-al-Hashim_ would either need to conserve their ammunition or begin using their swords.

In the distance around one of the ships, the nomad saw a strange pinkish mist begin to cover one of the ships. There was something strange and unnatural about it which made Haydar whisper a prayer of protection to Khsar. The skeleton horse archers quickly rode off towards the ship with the mist and Haydar ordered his men to advance.

As their horses galloped across the shore, Haydar briefly wondered what lay across the sea. He had only been as far as to Lashiek and Copher in the past but had never seen the lands of the fair skinned men of the north. Closing in on the ship with the mist dissipating, Haydar caught sight of strange, lithe, pale skinned creatures which danced and twirled as they fought against the Undying Sovreigns.

Catching a strange whiff of something like perfume in the air, Haydar suddenly felt unusually calm and relaxed. Descending from his horse, he slowly began walking towards the ship in a dream-like trance. At a closer look, he saw that the pale things were beautiful maidens whose dance was even greater than those of any of the women in the pleasure houses of Araby. As he took a step forward, he heard a loud scream of pain and his heart was wrenched as he was filled with grief and rage.

One of the pale women were cut down by Undying Sovereigns. Pulling out his sword in anger, he desired nothing more than to avenge the fallen woman. He heard the scrapings of swords leaving their sheaths as his brothers felt the same. With a nod to his comrades, they knew what had to be done.

Roaring a loud ululating war cry, the nomads charged on foot towards the back of the Undying Sovereigns.

* * *

Cutting down another one of the daemon-things which wore the face of her husband, the Tomb Queen's wrath was intensified by the masquerade of these deceivers. Thrusting her silver sword towards another daemon, the pale skinned creature which bore a single breast grasped the sword in its scorpion claw. The daemon shrieked in pain as it touched it, the Tomb Queen was not sure if it was the enchantment upon the blade or the material of it.

Regardless, Tahirah swung her khopesh at it the daemon and the blade sank into its exposed belly. The daemon-thing shrieked in pain before it dissolved into a mist of pink gas. The Tomb Queen hardly had time to ponder for she saw several more of the deamon-things beginning to push large sticks upon the shore. Already, the plank of wood which would have been used for boarding the ship was pulled up.

'Do not let them escape!' roared the Tomb Queen and she began running towards the ship but was intercepted by one of the daemon-things.

Blocking a knife strike from a deamon-thing, the creature spun and thrust a clawed foot towards Tahirah with amazing speed. The foot connected upon the Tomb Queen's breastplate and she was knocked back from the impact, the daemon thing quickly spun upwards in a strange, dance-like movement. Its clawed feet kicked the air and its scorpion claw was about to strike the Tomb Queen before the khopesh of Asim intercepted it and severed the claw.

The daemon thing shrieked in pain and as its claw was severed and one of her Tomb Guards took advantage and swiftly beheaded the daemon. As the last of the daemon-things were cut down, Tahirah heard a ululating cry from behind, she saw the nomads were coming towards them with swords raised. As they took a few more step close to the Tomb Queen and her Tomb Guard, they suddenly stopped, almost in reach of the khopeshes of the dead. The nomads began looking around as if in a daze.

Shaking her head in disgust, it seemed that the mortals were bewitched by some spell from the daemons and were likely planning on attacking her. Although there were times the Tomb Queen tried to remember what it was like to be amongst the living again, she was glad that in times like this, she was not burdened by the weaknesses or distractions of the flesh. Ignoring the nomads, she saw Kemsyt and his horse archers ride closer to them.

'Have word sent to the fleets of Zandri!' she commanded 'one of the barbarian ships have escaped.'

With a bow, Kemsyt was about to ride off before the Liche Priest Onuris arrived and interjected 'That would be unnecessary my queen' he said as he bowed to her as well.

She noted that there were two armed guards in the colors of Numas wielding large swords beside Onuris. They stood protectively over another Liche priest, a Keeper she realized who also wore garments bearing his allegiance to Numas. With a nod from the Tomb Queen, she was confident that Onuris and the Keeper knew what they were doing.

The two began whispering words of power and they began to shine with holy light, a fountain of skulls burst forth from the sands in front of the Keeper. The skulls quickly piled into a mound where an ornate casket of gold and stone appeared, the lid of the casket swiftly opened in a rays of bright shining light and dozens of flaming skulls emerged and wailed as they flew towards the ship. With a grin appearing upon her withered lips, the Tomb Queen was pleased by what damage the Casket of Souls would cause.

From the blue sky itself, a vortex of greenish energy appeared. From the vortex, several magic skulls began to descend upon the ship as Onuris finished his own spell. The damage was catastrophic as the magic unleashed by the Casket of Souls and the Skullstorm of Sakhment descended upon the ship and its inhabitants. Soon the ship began to break apart and its pieces began to sink into the Great Ocean. The souls of those aboard the ship were consumed by the raging spirits, the Tomb Queen noted that there were some knew skull returning to the Casket.

With satisfaction, the Tomb Queen knew that by now her minions would have either overwhelmed the enemy ships or would be almost finished in doing so. Ordering Onuris and Asim to take command of her infantry to sabotage the rest of the ships, the Tomb Queen watched as her cavalry and chariots arrived. The first phase of her side of the battle was over and it was now time to move on to the next.

As the regiments of skeleton horsemen, cavalry archer, chariots and knights raised their weapons in salute to the Tomb Queen, she saw as one of the Necroserpents which was purposefully riderless, lowered its head to the sands. The Tomb Queen was handed a spare riding hook by the captain of her Necropolis Knights, sheathing her silver sword and taking the hook, she mounted the Necroserpent which raised its head high.

Pointing her sword towards where the main enemy force was camped, the Tomb Queen ordered her army to charge. The hooves of their steeds thundered across the sands as it was time to cut off the head of this army.

* * *

Watching as the battle was still in the balance, the Black King's army of marauders and beastmen were now all gone with only the Daemons remaining in the fight. With a look of contempt, he knew it was over for the dead had overwhelmed his army, he realized that he had underestimated the Tomb Kings and their capabilities. Having already decided that he should retire from the battlefield and this campaign, the Black King turned his gaze towards his ships.

His eyes widened in shock as he saw one ship actually cast off, the ship was then assailed by a barrage of magical assaults and it soon sank into the waters. Quickly calling for his honor guard to mount up, several Chaos Knights began to climb upon the back of their hellish steeds. Some rode upon the backs of their horses which were warped by the power of Chaos, other climbed upon the platforms of chariots which were pulled by the same horses or were pulled by the mighty gore beasts.

Raising his sword high, the Black King ordered his honor guard to make for the shores. If the ships could not be saved, then their mission here and for the future would be ruined! This he could not allow, he would not let the dead to ruin his quest for vengeance, and he would not be denied his destiny to aid in bringing the world to its final ruin.

* * *

Watching as the Chaos Lord and his honor guard retreated from the field, Viktor Blause knew that it was over. He had somewhat expected for this to happen, it often happened with those who thought they could walk the fine line of balance amongst the four gods. With a snort of disdain, the Marienburg sorcerer would have to continue his original purpose for coming to the Land of the Dead.

Reaching into one of his satchels which hung on the side of his hip, he removed a scroll which he needed to complete his own quest. With the scroll in hand, he looked to see the undead cavalry which were advancing upon them. All he needed now was the queen, the Tomb Queen whose capture would mean the success of his quest.

* * *

Roaring a war cry in the tongue of the Norse, the Black King drove his daemonic sword into the neck of skeletal horse and the ribcage of its rider. He heard the faint scream as the souls of both were drawn into the sword which would consume them for power. He felt a spear strike and shatter against his chaos forged armor, with contemptuous ease he beheaded his assailant in a single swipe.

All around him, his Chaos Knights and Chariots crashed into the ranks of the undead cavalry with bones and armor splintering in their wake. While the weapons and armor of the Chaos warriors proved superior, the dead had great numbers on their side. The Tomb Kings also had many cavalry archers which kept firing volleys of arrows at his honor guard, more than a few had found their marks within the joints between armor or the visors of their helmets. Ordering his warrior to break the enemy line and press on towards the coast, his Knights obeyed as they galloped across the sands.

* * *

Having broken the spell of the daemons, the nomads under Haydar's command had been shamed by their intent upon striking against the Undying Sovereigns. As penance, the nomads had remounted their horses and followed the cavalry charge of the Tomb Queen against the barbarian army. In silence they rode as they no longer cared for the reward of wealth for through their actions, they had shamed not only themselves but also their tribe.

As the elite of the barbarian army drew closer, Haydar could see the massive armored men. Clad in black armor with horned helmets, their weapons and gear were etched in runes and sigils which were painful to look upon. Haydar watched as many of the skeletal cavalry of the Undying Sovereigns were destroyed by the barbarians, he was glad that he had his bow for he would not desire to face them sword to sword.

Ordering his men to fire at will, Haydar raised his bow and removed one of his arrows. Pointing his bow at the nearest of the barbarians with the arrow slowly knocking back, he whispered a prayer to Khsar for his aim to be true. With a deep inhale of breath under the black cloth which covered his mouth, Haydar released an arrow at the same time his brothers did.

The volley of arrows did little to harm the armored warriors, but one fell with a lucky shot to the eye. Already reaching for another arrow, Haydar heard the whistles of several more arrows fly over his shoulders. He glanced back to see several skeletal horse archers rounding about as they continued their ceaseless volleys of arrows.

Among the barbarians, Haydar noted that one of them had armor which seemed more decorated and ornate compared to his comrades. Guessing that this was the leader of the barbarian army, the nomad took aim at the enemy leader. If he were to slay the leader or at the least wound him enough for the Undying Sovereigns to slay him, then his honor as well as the honor of the _bani-al-Hashim_ would be restored.

Aiming at the enemy leader, he fired an arrow which flew straight and true into his mount's eye. The hellish let out a loud, almost human-like shriek of pain but still it galloped on. Ordering his men to focus fire, they fired their shots at the horse and soon even the horse archers did the same. Eventually the barbarian leader's horse fell with a few sticking out from his own armor.

The barbarian riders saw their master fall and they quickly formed a defensive circle around him. Now trapped between the claws of the scorpion, the barbarians were surrounded and had nowhere left to run.

* * *

Bursting out of the sands atop the Necroserpent, the Tomb Queen's mount closed its jaws around the body of an enemy horseman. The beast screamed in agony as the deadly venom of the construct began to fill its body, the Tomb Queen herself had driven her khopesh into the neck of the armored barbarian. All around Tahirah, her army of cavalry troops had surrounded the enemy leader and his honor guard.

From the sands came several Sepulchral Stalkers which cast their deadly gazes and their plunged their weapons upon the servants of _Isfret_. All Tomb Scorpions arose from the sands as well as they brought their deadly claws and stingers to bear upon the barbarians. Masses of Tomb Swarms emerged from the sands as well to crawl and devour the flesh of the foe.

Victory was hers once more, the only thing which would make it complete was to take the head of the enemy leader. Quickly spotting the warrior whose armor was more ornate than those of his comrades, she saw him push off the weight of his horse and he rose with a flaming sword in his right hand. The warrior then grasped something around his neck with the other hand and the Tomb Queen began to see something glow brightly.

Having had centuries of experience with facing against enemy sorcerers, the Tomb Queen instinctively knew that he was trying to escape. Leaping off of her mount's head, Tahirah's bony feet landed upon the sands, she quickly ran towards the enemy leader. Calling upon the enchantments of Ptra and Geheb which had been infused into her armor, the Tomb Queen's speed and strength was magnified as she pulled out her silver sword.

The enemy leader noticed her presence he glared balefully at her. She could hear him continued to whisper some sort of spell as his left hand still held whatever it was, likely an amulet around his neck. The enemy leader swiftly brought up his blazing sword in time to parry Tahirah's khopesh, her silver sword on the other hand had cut through the barbarian's armor and impaled his left hip.

The barbarian grunted in pain and the Tomb Queen saw his eyes widen in horror. A shimmering azure light began to fill barbarian leader as he began to babble some sort of spell again, the light began to glow around Tahirah as well and she tried to pull her sword out but it was stuck inside him. In a blink of an eye, the Tomb Queen and the Chaos Lord disappeared in a flash of light.

* * *

Grinning with satisfaction and relief that his quest was complete, Viktor Blause could not quite believe that he had pulled it off. While he was not expecting to catch the Chaos Lord along with the Tomb Queen, he supposed he could use the opportunity to demand greater compensation from the Black King, considering his current contract was not yet fulfilled.

With a triumphant look upon his face, he whispered words of power and a disc of azure light appeared before him, he took one last look upon the Lands of the Dead and he was glad to be rid of this cursed place.

* * *

All across the battlefield, the Chaos Daemons were soon overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of the Tomb Kings. No mercy was given as the last of the daemons were banished and the barbarians slain. The great vulture daemon which had been summoned by the Chaos army had eventually been banished by the combined efforts of the Liche Priests and the remaining Hierotitans.

As the dead raised their weapons in victory, Prince Sefu led his army towards the shore. With the weight of numbers added by the Numasi prince's own forces, the last of the Chaos army was slain, already the Liche Priests were casting their spells to enslave the souls of the enemy. It pleased the prince when he could deny the daemon gods the souls of their minions.

Curiously, he noted the absence of the Tomb Queen. He had inquired about what had happened but her retainers were simply at a loss for words. According to the Liche Priest Onuris, he had claimed that she had simply disappeared in the battle and that he could not feel her presence. The Tomb Herald remained in a morose silence and the warriors of the Tomb Queen seemed lost as well.

How interesting thought Prince Sefu as he looked upon the now leaderless army of the Tomb Queen, his mind began calculating about how he could use this to his advantage when he reported back to Lord Tutankhanut. Among the army, he had also seen the nomad warriors he had sent ahead. Having ordered the nomads to rejoin his force, Prince Sefu's mind was now occupied by the possibilities he would have for taking the sole credit for not only destroying the Chaos army, but returning many of the treasures of Nehekhara.

With a smile, Prince Sefu began preparing his forces for the march back to Numas.

* * *

Feeling a sense of displacement and vertigo which was mixed with the excruciating pain as the elf blade was still stuck in his gut. The Black King's vision was cleared as he soon found himself in a stone room of shifting color which held many strange baubles and devices here and there. It looked like he was in a wizard's laboratory.

The Black King looked around and he tried to move, he found that he could not for he was tightly chained to a wall, he noticed his bindings were inscribed with chaotic runes. To his surprise, he saw the Tomb Queen was not far away to his right; her desiccated body was also wrapped in chains which the mummy struggled against. Ahead of him, he saw the Marienburg sorcerer speaking to the Lord of Change which had been summoned during the battle; the Greater Daemon had changed its size to be similar to that of a man.

'Ah herr Valerius, so good that you have come to' The sorcerer spoke

'What is the meaning of this!? Sorcerer!' demanded the Black King as he struggled against his bonds.

'You really were not supposed to be here mein herr, just her' the sorcerer said as he pointed to the Tomb Queen

'Then release me and we part ways' said the Chaos Lord coldly

'Unfortunately mein herr, it seems The Great Changer has other plans for you' the sorcerer said as he moved closer to the Black King. 'Besides' he added with a threatening tone 'you have yet to pay me for my services and you did leave me behind with the rest of the army'

He then grabbed the sword which was still stuck and he yanked it out while eliciting a roar of pain from the Chaos Lord. Looking to the Lord of Change who gave a devilish smile to the Chaos Lord the daemon began whispering words of power.

'Our friend here has decided to take recompense, mein herr' the sorcerer said 'I think it will be fitting'

This cannot be! The Black King thought, he had a destiny! A promise that he would see Bretonnia burn! He saw the daemon began to dissipate into an ethereal mist which began to drift towards him. In a horrid moment, the Black King realized that he was nothing more than a puppet, a means to an end in the endless schemes of Tzeentch.

As the mist entered the Black King's body through his wound, he began to struggle and fight for control of his own will. The daemon proved too strong and the will of the Black King was consumed by the daemon. As the chains shattered around the Black King's body, the now daemon possessed man rose up, the wound swiftly closed and he began to test out his new body.

'So distasteful to have to wear flesh' the daemon spoke in the Black King's voice

'All in our master's plans' Viktor said with a bow to the Greater Daemon

'Indeed' the daemon spoke 'have the arrangements been made in the north?'

'Of course Great One, your kingdom awaits the return of its liege' the sorcerer said with a bow.

The daemon possessed man grinned and walked towards the edge of the room where a shimmering disc of azure light appeared. Stepping into the disc of light, the Black King would take his place in bringing the world to its final ruin.

* * *

The sorcerer then looked to the Tomb Queen who still struggled with her bonds.

'It is useless you know' he said in the tongue of Ancient Nehekhara for he had spent many decades studying that language, it helped that he had some assistance from his daemonic masters. The Tomb Queen looked to him; her face was still covered by the ivory mask.

'What is it you seek, mortal?' the Tomb Queen asked suspiciously in a dry whispery tone as she still struggled

'We have mutual acquaintances who wish to meet you, _mein frau_' the sorcerer said as he went to a table of polished stone with leather scroll case upon it. Opening the case, the sorcerer removed the scroll and he heard the Tomb Queen speak

'What possible acquaintances could we share?' she asked

'Your name is quite cursed by the Sons of Hashut you know, they have many grudges against you' the sorcerer said as he opened the scroll.

A moment of silence passed as the Tomb Queen considered his words, he then heard her whisper 'The Infernal Kings…'

'It is good you know then' the sorcerer said 'for the Dawi Zharr are paying me in both gold and knowledge to bring you to them alive'

'Then you have been long late in your task' the Tomb Queen hissed with hostility 'I have not been amongst the living for eons!'

'You'd think so with your archaic magic and primitive beliefs, let me show you a demonstration of what the True Gods are capable of!' the sorcerer said proudly.

Snapping his finger, a group of eight dark robed figures emerged from the portal the daemon had used to leave. Pulling back their hoods, each of the eight were blanked eyed women with shaven heads and the rune of Tzeentch branded upon their foreheads. Each were slaves taken from across the Old World, each having borne some form of favor from the false gods

Viktor Blause then used his magic to dominate the wills of the slaves, each began to circle the Tomb Queen to form the eight pointed star. Each began whispering words of power as their eyes rolled up and filled the room with an unnatural chill. The slaves began glowing with a nimbus of arcane light; soon the Tomb Queen herself began to glow as well.

The chains around the Tomb Queen disintegrated and she began to float helplessly in the air as if she were marionette held by its strings. Each of the eight women then removed a curved ceremonial dagger from the sleeves of their robes, as their chanting reached a crescendo, each own slit their own throats. As the blood began to gush from their necks, their flesh began to melt like wax from a candle.

Viktor Blause continued the spell on his own now. The blood from the slaves and flesh from their bodies began to flow out of their garments and the stones, each one rising up to the Tomb Queen herself. The Tomb Queen was encased in a bubble of blood which was soon wrapped with a cocoon of flesh; it bulged and moved as she tried to escape.

With a grin, the sorcerer knew that all he needed now was to make the delivery.


	4. Epilogue: The Last Awakening

'Is that it manling?' asked Zarrugoth as he looked up to the blue robed human sorcerer, they stood upon the eastern end of the Plains of Zharr, near the Mountains of Mourn, the territory of the Ogre Kingdoms.

'Indeed it is mein herr, and I have even brought you the Tomb Queen's two swords so you may display them as a trophy' the sorcerer said with a sickeningly sycophantic bow.

With a gruff nod, Zarrugoth honestly did not understand why the Umgi of the west were like that. It mattered little to him for the quality of their labor, whether it was through slaves or in deals that interested the Daemonsmith. Looking to the cocoon of writhing flesh which lay upon a wooden cart pulled by Gnoblars, the small greenskins which were part of the sorcerer's entourage quickly scampered away at the sight of the Chaos Dwarf. Zarrugoth could hardly believe that the cursed one who had given his predecessors so much trouble in the past was so easily caught by a human.

'A deal is a deal manling' nodded Zarrugoth as he looked to one of his slaves and barked a quick command.

An earless goblin with its mouth and eyes stitched shut shuffled towards the sorcerer bearing a heavy case. While the Chaos Dwarf was loathe to part with its contents, a deal was a deal and the Dawi Zharr honored their pacts. The Daemonsmith thought of the prestige he would gain by delivering the creature who had foolishly earned so many grudges and oaths of vengeance from the Sons of Hashut.

As the sorcerer took the case and handed it to a burly chaos ogre bodyguard. The sorcerer bowed to the Chaos Dwarf and he mounted his horse. He then went off, back to the northern wastes with his bodyguard lumbering behind him. Looking to the pod of flesh, he ordered his goblin slaves to begin pulling the cart back towards Zharr Naggrund.

* * *

_Days later…_

From underneath the concealment of his new cloak which was etched with a rune of concealment, Enlag Stormrun watched as the Tainted One and his convoy was moving further into Zharr Nagrund. With his crossbow raised, the Ranger tracked the movement of the leader as he waited for the signal to strike. A tense moment of silence passed before the Ranger heard a deep voice shout 'KHAZUK!'

Throwing off his own runed cloak, Belegar Gorrinson charged towards the convoy from the other side as his axe was held high. The lead member of the Tainted, the Daemonsmith looked to the Slayer and his two guards pointed their rifles at Belegar. Hearing the loud staccato of fire from a mix of crossbows and even a few rifles, several crossbow bolts and bullets flew towards the Tainted and their _grobi_ slaves.

The two riflemen fell, their bodies pin cushioned and riddled with bolts and bullets. Several of the _grobi _fell as well in the first volley and the second volley had swiftly seen to their demise. The Daemonsmith was not struck for Belegar had marked the leader as his.

The Daemonsmith pulled out a large bull headed hammer with eyes which glowed with daemon-fire. He raised his weapon up by the shaft in time to block Belegar's axe from under the beard of the gromril weapon.

Belegar thrust his right knee forward and he caught the Daemonsmith in the chest. The Tainted One grunted and swiftly delivered a head butt towards the Slayer who still stood his ground. The two warriors struggled with each other's weapons and soon both of them quickly disengaged by jumping back.

With twin war cries, both the Daemonsmith and the Slayer were at each other again, their weapons clashing in a showers of light as they struck, dodged and parried with almost equal skill. Around Enlag, his band of Rangers already had their sights on the Tainted One, regardless of whether the Slayer found his doom or would be victorious, the Daemonsmith would die.

As the duel continued and the Rangers watched in anticipation, Enlag heard a strange and disgusting squelching sound from the cart the _grobi_ slaves were pulling. Looking to the cart, he saw blood beginning to pour from it as he heard something akin to raw flesh being torn apart and something large and red fall off the cart. The Daemonsmith swiftly looked to the cart in surprise and the Slayer took advantage of his distraction.

With a mighty sweep of his axe, Belegar beheaded the Tainted One. The body of the Chaos Dwarf staggered as blood shot up like a geyser from the stump of his neck, the body then fell upon its back and the Slayer spat upon the corpse in contempt and disappointment. Enlag raised his right hand and he began making a series of hand signal to his Rangers.

The dwarf Rangers cautiously advanced upon the cart, they were not exactly sure what the cart contained. As they drew closer, Enlag saw a creature which lay in a fetal position and he could hear the sounds of coughing and gasps from an expressionless face. He realized that it was wearing a mask, and that it was wearing some sort of armor of a design he had never seen before.

The creature weakly brought itself up to its knees on shaky legs, it then began to look at its gore smeared hands. At a closer look, he could have sworn that the creature was a female human. When he saw the disgusting sac of deflated flesh which still dripped with blood, he could not be sure if the creature was some sort of mutant. With weapons still drawn upon the creature, the dwarf Rangers remained cautious.

* * *

Looking upon hands which were no longer dried withered flesh draped over bones, Tahirah looked with horror as her gore stained hands were now plump with meat and sinew, flesh… her hands were covered in soft meat filled flesh. She felt the rushing and sloshing of fluids in her body, she felt the heavy thumping of something under her left breast. The Tomb Queen realized in a mix of horror and confusion that it was a heart, a living, beating heart lay within her.

She could taste the and smell the heavy coppery tang of blood and ashes in her mouth and the air. Slowly reaching for her gore-stained ivory mask, she removed it and dropped it to the ground as she began to feel the now full cheeks upon her face as nails scratched against the flesh around her face and feeling the pain as she nearly drew blood. Feeling a strange strain upon the flesh of above her eyes, the Tomb Queen blinked. Looking up to see several short bearded creatures which almost looked like Infernal Kings were pointing strange weapons at her.

Kneeling in shock upon the red plains of a desolate land, the Tomb Queen, Tahirah of Ka-Sabar had awakened amongst the world of the living.


End file.
